Sanctity
by TheFictionalMe
Summary: MonRosalee's Wedding. But fairy tale endings are hard to come by. Whump, Angst. N/J, M/R
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

**Hey hey! So I finally found my muse again and came up with this lovely, er, angsty gem. Although I don't really think _this_ will happen at Monroe and Rosalee's wedding, I'm sure _something_ big will go down, just in time for the season finale in true Grimm fashion.**

**LOTS of angst and whump to be found here. Sorry if you wanted a fluffy wedding story…but this just isn't it.**

**Happy ending? Probably… Although I just watched GoT's Red Wedding finally…and that destroyed me (Robb!). I'd say that it didn't have any influence on this story, but…**

**Anyways, enjoy! Please let me know if you wanna see some more!**

**~TheFictionalMe~**

* * *

"C'mon, c'mon," Monroe growled as he stared into the mirror, his shaking fingers fumbling around the knot as he attempted to finish his bow tie. Funny, he'd done this a million times before, but today he just couldn't get the knot the way that he wanted it. He wound the black silk material around his fingers for the umpteenth time, pulling the looped fabric back together. He paused to steady himself, pulling through the final knot when a sudden knock at the door startled him, causing him to drop the ends of the tie.

Monroe sighed loudly, shaking his head, and walked slowly over to open the door. "Hey Nick."

Nick smiled broadly at him, stepping into the small room in the back of the church, with Hank right on his heels. Both men were dressed impeccably in matching suits, exactly like Monroe's, with the exception of the vest underneath and Monroe's bowtie.

"Hey man, how you holding up?" Nick clapped him on the shoulder as he entered the room.

"Getting cold feet yet?" Hank laughed, ignoring the dark look Monroe shot his way.

"Yea, yea, real funny," Monroe grumbled, turning back to the mirror. "I'd be great if I could get this damn bowtie finished." He took a deep breath and started over again, focusing firmly on the bowtie and _not_ on his pre-wedding jitters.

"The church is packed already," Nick informed him, casually placing his hands in the pockets of his suit. "I thought you said that you and Rosalee wanted a small outdoor wedding?"

"We did." Monroe shrugged, eyes focused on the mirror as he continued to struggle with the tie. "But Rosalee's mom insisted that we get married in the same church that she and Rosalee's dad did," he gestured widely at the room with one hand as he finished the final knot, "and my parents just had to invite _everyone_ they know to their only son's wedding."

"Well, there's not a seat left in the place," Hank added. "It's going to be one heck of a wedding."

"It had better be," Monroe shot back, as he straightened to examine his work, sighing in relief that the bowtie was finally finished to his satisfaction. A small smile instantly spread across his face. He turned back to Nick and Hank, who were watching him with looks of amusement clearly etched on their faces.

Monroe cleared his throat. "So," he held out his arms, the silk fabric of his suit shining in the late afternoon light streaming through the church windows, "how do I look?"

Nick and Hank smiled back at him. "Like you're ready to get married," Nick replied, as Hank nodded his head in agreement.

"You look a_lmost_ as good as I did before all four of my weddings," Hank smirked. This elicited a short laugh from Monroe, and suddenly he felt all of the nerves melting away. Today was the day. After all of the drama and heartbreak over the past few months, he was finally going to marry Rosalee.

"I can't believe we're getting _married_," Monroe mused with a note of disbelief, shaking his head slightly. There was absolutely nothing that could ruin this day.

"Congratulations," Nick smiled warmly at him. "You guys both deserve this."

Monroe nodded, placing a hand on Nick's shoulder. "Thanks man. It means a lot to have you standing up there with me today. Both of you," he quickly added, looking meaningfully at Hank. "I don't think I could do this without you guys." Both Nick and Hank were groomsmen in the wedding, much to the chagrin of his family. If marrying a Fuchsbau wasn't bad enough, why not make a Grimm the best man?

"Nowhere we'd rather be," Hank replied, "and of course you could. It's Rosalee, man. You'd do anything for her."

"That's true," Monroe smiled knowingly at his friends. "But it's not her I'm worried about. It's them," he jerked his head in the direction of the pews where rows packed full of friends and family had gathered to witness him and Rosalee become man and wife.

"I thought your parents were cool with you guys getting married now?" Nick furrowed his brows in confusion.

"I wouldn't call it 'cool'," Monroe scoffed, "but more like grudging acceptance. Her family is about the same. Dude, if I'm being honest, they're more concerned about my friendship with you."

Monroe didn't miss the hurt look that crossed Nick's face, fleeting as it was, and he immediately regretted his words. Nick quickly recovered, shrugging it off casually. "Sorry man. Listen, if me being here is going to cause problems…"

"Nick, no," Monroe swiftly reassured him, taking a step closer to the Grimm. "One, you being anywhere is bound to cause problems." Hank chuckled quietly in agreement behind them. "Two, you're my friend, and if you hadn't noticed I _did_ ask you to be the best man in my wedding. So to hell with 'em. I want you here, with me, today, when I marry the love of my life."

Nick broke into a wide grin at his words. "Alright then. I'll just try not to look anybody in the eye while we're up at the altar."

Monroe raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Yea, please don't. It's bad enough that we were required to use the new pastor here instead of the one we wanted…who is a Klaustriech I might add," he snorted in disgust, "but the deposit on this place? Ridiculous. So let's try to keep the violence at a minimum tonight, shall we?"

Nick held up his hands in mock protest. "Hey now, it won't be me who starts it."

"It never is," Hank grunted beside him, laughing when he saw the look Nick gave him.

"Funny," Nick grumbled, but there was no heat to his words. He glanced at his watch just then, before looking back up at Monroe. "Hey guys, it's time to go."

"Ok," Monroe glanced back at the mirror, checking his appearance once last time. "It's now or never." His stomach fluttered just thinking about how beautiful Rosalee was going to look. He turned back to Nick. "You got the rings?"

"Right here," Nick patted his left breast pocket firmly. "Not even a gang of Skalengecks could get these away from me."

"Hey now, don't jinx it," Monroe cautioned him. "Who knows who my parents invited to this thing."

* * *

"This is some church," Hank leaned in to whisper from his position behind Nick as they stood up at the altar behind Monroe, waiting for the ceremony to officially begin.

"Yea it is," Nick replied quietly in agreement, taking in the ornate carvings in the vaulted ceiling and the large stained glass windows lining both sides of the stone walls. The altar they were standing upon was huge, with a long set of stairs, each one wide enough for a person to lie down comfortably on. They were standing on the top three steps, off to the right side, in view of the entire congregation. The pastor was at the very top of the altar, with the ceremonial table laden with candles and flowers directly behind him. The reception area behind the church was almost as large and elegantly decorated as the main part of the church, lined with large stained glass windows that matched the ones in the main room. Besides the fact that it was a Wesen-friendly church and that it had special meaning, Nick could see why Rosalee's mother wanted them to get married here. It was beautiful.

Nick steered a careful glance across the packed pews, careful not to make lingering eye contact with anyone. He wasn't sure if everyone there knew he was a Grimm, and he wasn't about to be the reason that someone freaked out in the middle of his friends' wedding. There were several strong emotions in the church today, mostly happiness for the Monroe and Rosalee, but he could sense some resentment, judgment, and anger resonating from some family members near the front. When he noticed someone begin to woge in the third row, Nick quickly averted his gaze, glancing up at the large balcony that overhung the middle of the pews. Monroe had said earlier that no one was allowed up there during the wedding, but Nick narrowed his eyes when he noticed a shadow moving stealthily in the darkness above them. Tensing, he was about to motion to Hank when the wedding processional began, drawing his attention back to the aisle as the doors at the back of the church swung open. When he looked back up a moment later, there was no sign of any movement in the balcony. Nick shook his head, silently scolding himself for being paranoid, but the feeling of uneasiness didn't go away.

However, his worries were quickly pushed aside a moment later when he saw Juliette coming down the aisle, and his breath was taken away. She looked stunning in a pale green bridesmaid dress, her red hair curled elegantly and pinned up to one side. She and Rosalee's sister Deetta were bridesmaid and maid of honor, respectively.

As she came closer to them, holding a stunning bouquet of lilies and peering up over the top at him, Nick suddenly realized he wanted nothing more than to see Juliette in a wedding dress walking down the aisle towards him.

_Maybe it's time I propose again,_ he thought to himself, and he couldn't help the stupid grin that crossed his face as Juliette climbed up the long steps and took her place across from Hank on the left side of the altar. She gave him a discreet wink, and she looked so beautiful and carefree and happy. Nick felt his heart skip a beat just looking at her.

_Definitely time._

Next Deetta came down the aisle, looking lovely in her own pale green dress and surprisingly not bitter that this wedding was actually happening. Although, Nick recalled Monroe saying that Rosalee's family had taken the news of their relationship a little bit better than his own parents had.

A little.

Deetta carefully climbed the steps and reached her spot in front of Juliette. The music changed then to the wedding march, and everyone in the congregation slowly rose as the bride entered the room.

The look of pure happiness on Rosalee's face as she came down the aisle made her the most beautiful bride in the world. Her eyes were trained solely on Monroe as if they were the only two people in the room. Nick glanced up at Monroe and couldn't help but smile at the complete look of love and adoration on his friend's face as he watched his bride approach.

They were perfect for each other.

As Rosalee reached the bottom of the altar steps and paused, Nick leaned forward and gently nudged Monroe in the back, who seemed to be momentarily frozen in wonderment as he looked at her.

"Oh, right," Monroe said hastily under his breath, eliciting a chuckle from Nick. He rushed down to the steps to meet Rosalee, looping her arm through his. He carefully guided her back up the long steps, watching the layers of her simple but exquisite gown, and they stood to face the pastor at the very top.

"Please be seated," Pastor Johnson raised his hands, and the congregation sat at once.

Pastor Johnson opened with a well known verse about love, quoting First Corinthians, as well as a lesser-known poem that Nick now knew to be derived from Wesen history:

"Two such as you with such a master speed  
Cannot be parted nor be swept away  
From one another once you are agreed  
That life is only life forevermore  
Together wing to wing and oar to oar."

Monroe had stated there would be a few nods to Fuchsbau and Blutbad traditions (to try and appease their families _somewhat_ about their marriage), but mostly they were doing the ceremony in their own unique way, interlaced with typical wedding traditions. Besides, there were human guests mixed among the audience as well, meaning that nothing too obvious could be worked into the ceremony…much to Monroe's relief.

Then came the vows, which they had chosen to keep as meaningful and simple as they were.

Rosalee's voice was quiet and steady as she took her vows first. "I, Rosalee, take you Monroe, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health…"

Nick was intently listening to the vows and stealing glances at Juliette across the altar when the sudden feeling of dread returned, more intense this time, running all the way up and down his spine. It made him shudder involuntarily, as every hair on the back of his neck stood up. The rapid shift in the air was palpable, almost suffocating, pushing down all around him. He scanned around in apprehension, daring a glance across the crowd as he tried to pinpoint what was suddenly setting off all of his Grimm senses at full alarm.

The wedding continued on, everyone else in the church oblivious to any danger lurking about. Monroe squeezed Rosalee's hands tightly, eyes focused solely on her, as he cleared his throat to start his own vows.

"I, Monroe, take you Rosalee…"

Nick tuned it out, focusing all of his energy on locating the source of the imminent threat. Finally out of the corner of his eye, he caught something shiny glinting above, caught in the final rays of the setting sun as it streamed in through the stained glass windows. He glanced quickly upwards, scanning the balcony overhead, and he felt his heart thud painfully to a stop when he realized what it was.

Peeking over the edge of the balcony, almost completely ensconced by the darkness, was the long, smooth barrel of a rifle…and it was aimed directly at Monroe.

"…until death do us part…"

There was no time to breathe or move or think. Nick reacted purely on instinct, fearing for his friend's life.

"Monroe!"

Nick lunged forwards without a second thought, hoping against hope that he wasn't too late. He crashed directly into Monroe's back, sending them both toppling headfirst in a tangle of limbs down the steep stairs of the altar.

At that exact moment, the deafening crack of a gunshot echoed throughout the church.

* * *

_Poem snippet from "A Master Speed" by Robert Frost. _

_TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

**Wow. Just wow. Thank you SO much for all the reviews/faves/follows! I'll be honest, I wasn't planning on updating **_**quite**_** this soon, but your reviews kicked me into action! And even to you lurkers (yes I know you're there, I used to be one too), thanks for taking the time to check out this story. I appreciate you all! **

**For those of you who said I was "in character"-that's just awesomesauce. I think the most important thing (and the hardest thing) to do in fanfic is to stay in character, so thanks so much for boosting my confidence! You'll have to let me know how I did with Renard when he eventually pops up, he was the hardest one for me to write. **

**Also, I'm NOT a slash writer (NO offense to those who read/write it), it's just not my thing. I'm a canon-compliant kind of girl, and one of the 5% of people who actually like Nick/Juliette. **

**And although I LOVED all of your reviews, etc., I just have to shout out at MoondustWolf whose comment "ALL THE AWARDS" seriously had me laughing out loud. Why thank you! *takes bow***

**Ok, on to the good stuff. Watch out for some blood, swearing, and some hurt and ANGST in this chapter. As well as another cliffhanger…hang on!**

**~TheFictionalMe~**

* * *

Monroe landed on the bottom steps of the altar with a hard thud, momentarily stunned with the force and unexpected shock of his fall. He was barely cognizant of a gunshot echoing painfully off the stone church walls, followed by the screams of multiple guests as they scrambled from their seats and ran for their lives. There was a heavy weight on top of him, crushing his chest, but he shifted and the weight rolled off, allowing him to suck a deep breath into his lungs again.

He lay sprawled out on his back, and the world was spinning above him with the impact of his landing. _Maybe I have a concussion…great,_ he thought, as he closed his eyes to stop the room from spinning. _Or…maybe I've been shot,_ he began panicking internally as he finally processed that someone had just _shot _at him, at his _wedding_. He tensed, waiting for the sharp burn of a bullet hole to register somewhere in his body…but there was none.

He was finally brought back to his senses by Rosalee frantically screaming his name from where she was being held back by Deetta behind the cover of the large ceremonial table at the top of the altar. Juliette lay sprawled out behind them, looking momentarily stunned, her bouquet strewn in pieces across the top of the steps. It seemed that Deetta had knocked her over in her haste to get to Rosalee.

It was absolute chaos in the church, guests screaming and pushing each other over and fleeing out the main doors of the church. His parents and Rosalee's mother were caught somewhere in the frantic crowd no doubt, and Hank and Pastor Johnson were strangely nowhere to be seen. But all Monroe could hear over the mass pandemonium was Rosalee calling out to him.

"Monroe!" Rosalee screamed again, and the absolute panic in her voice caused Monroe to sit up slowly, holding his aching head. Even with a possible concussion and some definite bruises, he amazingly felt fine, despite some unknown gunman's best attempt. He turned to reassure her, and that was when he finally caught sight of his shirt and realized why she was so afraid.

The front of his once starch white shirt and vest were now covered in bright red blood. At this realization, the thick, coppery smell hit him full force, and he struggled vainly not to wolf out at the scent.

Taking a shaky breath, Monroe reached up with an unsteady hand to probe his chest and abdomen carefully, fearing that maybe he was still in shock and that the pain of the gunshot wound wasn't yet registering to his brain.

Upon further exploration, Monroe found that he was still ok, no bullet holes to be found, and he exhaled deeply in relief. "I'm ok!" he called over to where Rosalee was still struggling to break free of her sister's protective grasp. "The blood isn't…mine…" He paused at the sudden sinking realization of what that meant.

Monroe immediately twisted to his other side to see Nick face down at the bottom of the steps beside him.

He wasn't moving.

"Oh God," he breathed, scrambling to his knees and moving closer to him. "Nick?" he nudged him gently.

Getting no response, Monroe slowly rolled the Grimm on to his back. Nick's eyes were closed and his face deathly pale, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. But Monroe's attention was instantly drawn to a hole through the left lapel of Nick's suit jacket, smaller than a penny, with an impressive amount of blood already blossoming from behind it. It stained the front of Nick's dress shirt and vest an ugly shade of red, pooling slowly down on to the floor beside them and soaking into Monroe's pant leg.

"Jesus…" Monroe murmured in horror, staring at the alarming amount of blood, before finally looking up at Nick's face. "Nick? Nick! Can you hear me?" he shook him gently at first, then more urgently a second time, desperate to get any kind of response. "C'mon man, wake up! Nick!"

For as pale and as utterly still as he was, Monroe was truly afraid for a long painful moment that he was dead. With shaking fingers, he reached up press against Nick's throat, searching for a pulse and fearing that he wouldn't find one. He almost fainted with relief when he felt the faint thrumming against his fingers. Weak and thready but still there. Still alive.

He wheeled around to look back at Rosalee again, not paying any heed to the chaos still continuing in the church as the guests fled for safety. "Nick's been hit!"

"Oh my God!" Juliette cried out, snapping to her senses and realizing what had happened. She flew down the stairs, losing one of her heels carelessly behind her, and landed with a hard thud on her knees at Nick's other side. "Nick! Nick! Open your eyes!" she begged him, cupping his face and turning it towards her. Nick continued to lie utterly still, the shallow rise and fall of his chest and his weakly beating pulse the only indication he was still with them at all.

"We need to put pressure on the wound," Rosalee said authoritatively, suddenly at Monroe's side, pulling up the layers of her wedding gown and kneeling down next to them on the steps. "Juliette, help me pull his shirt back."

Juliette nodded silently, worrying her lower lip, and moved to quickly undo the buttons on Nick's dress shirt, her fingers slipping on the slick blood. As she worked, Monroe turned to Rosalee. "Are you ok?" he asked her with concern, his eyes frantically scanning her up and down for signs of any injuries.

She nodded quickly in response, reaching out to grab his arm, her eyes full of worry. "Are you?"

Monroe smiled grimly at her. "Yea…can't say the same for Nick though."

Rosalee frowned, leaning forward and closely examining the wound on his chest. "He's bleeding too much. I need your jacket."

Monroe nodded, hastily ripping off his suit jacket and balling it up. He hesitated, meeting Juliette's anxious gaze across from him, before placing the jacket over the wound. He took a deep breath, pressing down firmly in a vain attempt to stem the bleeding. As he pushed down, Nick groaned audibly in pain, his eyelids slowly fluttering and causing them to all lean over him in apprehension.

"Nick, can you hear me?" Juliette asked, running a hand tenderly down the side of his face as she blinked back tears that she refused to let fall. He groaned again as Monroe pushed down even harder, trying not to stare at the blood steadily seeping through his jacket and coating his hands at an alarming rate. Nick began writhing beneath his hands, trying to get away from the pain, but Monroe was unrelenting. Rosalee leaned over to hold down his shoulders so that he couldn't move away, heedless to the fact that Nick's blood was now soaking into the edge of her once-white dress. Juliette leaned over, whispering calming words into his ear and squeezing his limp hand between hers.

"Sorry, sorry…" Monroe murmured apologetically, refusing to let up on the pressure. The bleeding didn't seem to be slowing down at all, and Monroe wondered if he was even helping. Nick coughed weakly, finally opening his eyes all of the way.

"Nick?" Juliette asked again gently, running a hand across his clammy forehead.

"J'liette?" Nick choked out as his unsteady gaze focused on her face.

"Hey," she smiled sadly, relief evident in her voice that he was awake. "I'm here. We're all here."

Monroe let out a deep breath that he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, immensely grateful that Nick had regained consciousness. "Hey man, you back with us?"

Nick's eyes rolled around dazedly, as if he was trying to locate the sound of Monroe's voice. "…yea," he coughed again. He grimaced, closing his eyes for a moment and Monroe noted with concern that it took an exceeding amount of effort for him to open them again. Nick swallowed convulsively before he was able to continue, each word strained and breathy. "…wh't….happ'n'd…"

"Nick," Juliette's voice was shaky but calm, "you've been shot…but you're going to be fine. We're going to get help." She looked up, taking her eyes off of Nick briefly to scan around the room. "Where's Hank?"

Monroe shook his head, and Rosalee shrugged helplessly. "I don't know."

"He took off towards the balcony," Deetta answered as she finally joined them, standing on the steps behind Rosalee. "I think he was going after the gunman."

"Nick needs a hospital _now_," Juliette bit out in worry and frustration. Since they were all in their wedding attire, none of them had their phones except for Hank, who had insisted on keeping his in the pocket of his suit jacket. "Somebody call 911!" she called out, looking around desperately for someone who could help. The church was nearly empty now, the guests retreating for cover outside the church.

"I already did," Alice suddenly answered, slowly approaching them with Monroe's dad behind her. "They're on the way."

"Thank you," Monroe looked up at his parents briefly, hoping they could read the sincerity in his eyes. He knew how they felt about Nick and his subsequent friendship with him, so the fact that they were willing to help to save his life spoke volumes.

Bart nodded stiffly, looking uncomfortable as he regarded Monroe. "Are you alright?"

"Me?" Monroe scoffed, looking back down at Nick's bloodied chest and frowning. "I'm fine."

"Who would try to shoot you at your wedding?" Alice shook her head in disbelief, and Monroe could only shrug at her. Truthfully, he had no idea who had tried to kill him or why.

Alice sighed, blinking back tears. "I don't understand it. I'm just glad you're ok."

"Well, not everyone approves of a Blutbad marrying a Fuchsbau _and_ being friends with a Grimm," Bart replied quietly, shrugging his shoulders. "Bound to piss someone off."

"Bart!" Alice scolded him, slapping his arm gently.

"What?" Bart looked back at her, and Monroe just shook his head at his parents, ignoring them to turn back to Nick.

"Well, I can't say that I agree…anymore," Bart continued reluctantly. "Monroe is alive, thanks to Nick."

"Monroe," Deetta added with a tone of wonderment and disbelief, "the Grimm took a bullet for you. He saved your life."

Monroe froze as that sudden realization hit him like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. Someone had tried to kill him, and _nearly_ had, for reasons still unknown, (although maybe his dad had a point), at his wedding…and Nick had saved his life.

Nick had taken a bullet meant for him, and now he might die because he was an utterly brave and heroic idiot.

Monroe swallowed thickly around the sudden lump in his throat, fighting back the unwelcome burning sensation welling up in his eyes.

"Yea…he did…" Monroe began slowly, pausing when his voice began to crack. He opened his mouth and then abruptly closed it, trying to find the words to express what he wanted to say, but found that for once he couldn't. He was saved from having to respond when Hank finally joined them, looking angry and out of breath.

"The perp tried to get away, but I surprised him in the back stairwell. He didn't stand a chance," Hank grinned, raising his fist triumphantly. "He's gonna be out for a while…" he paused as he came closer to the group, smile quickly dissipating as he sucked in a deep breath of realization that they were all gathered around Nick. "Oh shit…was Nick hit?"

Rosalee nodded sadly, looking over at Hank. "He was shot in the chest… he's still alive, but he needs medical treatment _now_."

"Damn it," Hank swore as he pushed his way past Deetta and knelt down next to Nick's head, his face masked in concern and fear. "Nick! Hey, Nick, you hear me? Talk to me…"

Nick's unsteady gaze slowly found Hank's face, and it seemed like ages before he was able to respond, his face twisted in utter pain and concentration.

"…I'm 'ere…" he ground out slowly, fighting to keep his eyes open and failing miserably.

"Good," Hank breathed, grateful to see his partner awake for the time being, "let's keep it that way, ok?" He quickly took off his own suit jacket, rolling it up and creating a makeshift pillow, sliding it underneath Nick's head.

Nick didn't respond, as he sucked in a deep breath that was painful to hear. It was too wet and shallow, sounding increasingly worse with each inhalation. Rosalee glanced over in worry at Monroe. He could sense her eyes on him but couldn't bring himself to look over at her, his eyes strangely fixated on the unsteady rise and fall of Nick's chest. He fought down an irrational fear that if he looked away, Nick would cease breathing altogether.

Hank hastily pulled out his phone, about to call 911, when Juliette stopped him. "Monroe's mom already did. They're on the way." She quickly turned her attention back to Nick, unable to tear her gaze away from his face.

Hank nodded stiffly, before standing back up. "Then where the hell are they?"

"I'm sure they're coming as fast as they can," Alice tried to reassure the detective, but he just sighed, brushing her off.

"Well, he doesn't have that much time," Hank said seriously, hands on his hips as he regarded his fallen partner. "He's bleeding out, and there isn't a damn thing we can do."

"All we can do is try to stop the bleeding and keep him awake," Rosalee replied quietly. "The longer he stays conscious, the better."

Hank sighed, nodding in agreement as he pulled out his phone again. "I've got to call the Captain." He looked seriously at the group before he stepped away. "Make sure…"

"…That he stays alive, got it," Monroe huffed, hoping the sarcasm covered up how scared he really was. It didn't.

Hank paused for a moment, before deciding not to respond to the jibe and stepping away to call Renard and inform him of the situation. Monroe sighed, shaking his head and looking apologetically at Juliette and Rosalee. "Sorry. I'm just…"

"Yea, me too," Juliette reassured him quietly. "It's ok."

"We're all scared," Rosalee added, "But we can't give up. Just keep pressure on it." Monroe nodded, making sure to keep the pressure on Nick's chest steady and even.

Deetta cleared her throat, interrupting the group. "Rosalee, I saw Mom get dragged outside by Uncle Bernie when the gun went off. I'm going to go check on her and let her know we're fine, ok?"

"Sure, go," Rosalee curtly gave her assent, and Deetta promptly moved down the stairs and down the aisle towards the main entrance of the church, where the rest of the wedding guests had taken cover.

"Mom, Dad," Monroe looked up urgently at his parents as a thought struck him. "Can you check with the rest of the guests and see if there's a doctor here?"

"Sure son," Bart nodded, and Monroe shot him a grateful look. Bart and Alice quickly took off after Deetta in the direction of the guests milling outside.

Just then, Nick made a pained noise in the back of his throat, his whole body shuddering slightly and drawing their attention back to his prone form.

"Nick, look at me," Juliette told him firmly, trying to keep his eyes focused on her as he fought vainly to keep them open. "You're going to be ok. You have to hang on, just a little bit longer."

"Yea man, you just gotta stay with us, ok?" Monroe added, amazed at how steady he was able to keep his voice. If his hands weren't currently pressed down on Nick's chest, trying to keep him alive, he was certain they would be shaking uncontrollably. "Just stay awake."

Nick blinked slowly as he looked up at him, and Monroe tried to ignore how glassed-over his eyes were. "'m try'ng…" he mumbled tiredly, struggling with his tenuous hold on consciousness.

He coughed again wetly, accompanied by an ever increasing wheezing sound as he struggled to breathe. Monroe's eyes widened when he saw blood now evident in Nick's mouth, staining his teeth and slowly coating his colorless lips with an ugly pinkish-red color.

"Monroe." Monroe's eyes shot up to meet Rosalee's worried ones next to him.

"Oh no…that means the bullet punctured a lung…" Juliette breathed, her panicked gaze meeting both Monroe's and Rosalee's over Nick.

Monroe shot a questioning look back to Rosalee. She looked at them both, regarding them seriously. "He could literally drown to death on his own blood. We're running out of time." Even though she was trying to seem outwardly calm, Monroe didn't miss the clear undertones of what she was saying.

Nick needed medical attention _fast_ or he was going to die, right there on the altar steps at their almost-wedding.

"Captain's on his way," Hank told them as he stepped back to the group. He stopped next to Juliette, frowning as he looked down. "How's Nick?"

"The bullet punctured a lung," Rosalee said urgently as she looked up at him, and the look on her face told him all he needed to know.

"What do we do?" Hank asked, as he began pacing frantically back and forth behind Juliette. He paused, running a hand haggardly over his face. "We can't just let him die!"

"We're doing everything we can but…without the proper medical equipment…" For the first time, Rosalee faltered, biting her lower lip and looking unsure as she met Monroe's concerned gaze, and his heart froze at the tears in her eyes. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she looked back down at Nick, running a hand gently through his hair. "I don't know."

"No," Juliette whispered in disbelief, leaning down until her face was inches from Nick's. "Nick, stay with us. You have to stay with us, ok?" Her tone was desperate now, drawing Monroe's attention back down to his friend. "Please, please…"

Nick coughed once again, frothy pink liquid bubbling out from behind his teeth and leaking slowly down one corner of his mouth. The light in his eyes was slowly dimming as he lost the battle with consciousness. His eyelids were slowly drooping closed again, although he was desperately fighting against it. Monroe could read the look clearly in his pain-filled eyes, and it felt like ice through his veins. They were losing him.

"I-I'm…s'rry…" Nick breathed, wet and throaty around the blood rapidly pooling in his mouth. His gaze slowly flickered to Juliette. "…l've…you…" His eyes slipped shut.

"Nick, no! Please!" Juliette pleaded, trying to force Nick to stay with them. Monroe's heart sank as he realized that Nick was dying right in front of them. He had never felt so helpless in his entire life.

"C'mon man, don't do this!" he was barely aware it was his own voice that was now begging, refusing to let Nick go. He pushed down even harder on the bullet wound, determined to keep him alive, but it elicited no response this time. "Nick!"

"Damn it Nick, hang on!" Hank demanded angrily as he knelt back down by his partner's head, shaking him roughly. "C'mon, you can't quit now!"

But Nick didn't move, didn't stir, didn't respond at all.

"How touching," a new voice suddenly spoke from behind Monroe and Rosalee, startling them all. They had all been so focused on Nick that they hadn't even realized someone was still in the church with them.

They all turned to see Pastor Johnson, who had conveniently disappeared when the shooting had begun, now standing at the top of the stairs. He grinned, but it wasn't a happy smile. He slowly reached underneath the layers of his robe, and Monroe's heart stopped when the pastor pulled out a handgun.

Pastor Johnson woged, showing his true Klaustriech form. "It's just a shame you won't be getting out of here alive," he snarled, as he raised the gun and aimed.

* * *

_TBC..._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

**So soooo sorry that it took me a little longer to update this time! Real life (what's that?) has been crazy lately, and I couldn't quite get this chapter to flow the way I wanted it to. Hope that it lives up to your expectations after hanging from that cliff! And thank you **_**thank you**_** again for all your reviews! They were definitely the inspiration and the driving force to tweak this chapter and finally post it. Keep 'em coming, they give me brain power! **

**After much debate, I was also able to squeeze our favorite Sergeant, Drew Wu, into this chapter. I had an **_**awful**_** time figuring out how to put the typical stand-by comic relief into such a serious story, but I think I did him justice (hopefully!).**

** So glad there's some more of you who love Nick/Juliette or stories written in canon. There just aren't enough canonical stories in this fandom, which is actually one reason why I decided to write this. And in response to Lostinarwop, I hope the finale lives up to our expectations too! I guess we'll see how in-canon (or not) this story is by then.**

**Also, I'm not pretending to be a medical expert (although I do live with one who was giving me **_**very**_** strange looks when I was asking him about punctured lungs and bullet wounds), so I apologize for any glaring mistakes on that part throughout this story. **

** Lastly…yesterday's episode=perfection! **

**~TheFictionalMe**

* * *

"What the hell?" Hank asked in disbelief as they all stared at the armed pastor. "What's going on?"

"That's a great question, detective," Pastor Johnson replied, as he kept the gun leveled coolly at them. Hank narrowed his eyes, wondering how the pastor even knew he was a cop. "But sometimes when you need to get a job done, it's best to just do it yourself." With that, he turned to aim the gun point blank at Monroe.

_Why is everyone trying to kill me today?! _ Monroe grumbled internally despite the gravity of the situation.

"Don't make this difficult, and I won't have to kill your friends," Pastor Johnson sneered, cocking the hammer of the gun. "Although, this one is already halfway there," he gestured at Nick, and Monroe wanted to kill him for the smug look on his face. "I have to say, my associate shooting the Grimm was just a happy accident. _You're_ the job."

Monroe's eyes flashed red as he turned to regard Johnson. "Well if you're going to shoot me, then I deserve to know why. Why are you doing this? Who wants me dead?"

"Enough questions," the Klaustriech quickly cut him off, waving the gun at him. "Get up and move here," he ordered, gesturing to the middle of the altar steps. "I'll make this quick."

Monroe swallowed, looking sadly back at Rosalee, Juliette, and Hank as they hovered protectively around Nick.

"Monroe, no…" Rosalee reached for his arm, trying to stop him, but he gave the slightest shake of his and pulled away. There was no way out of this.

Juliette moved over to keep pressure on Nick's wound as he slowly stood up, bloodied hands raised up in surrender as he turned to face Pastor Johnson.

"Okay, okay, I'll do whatever you want," he attempted to placate him, "just as long as you let the rest of them go. Please."

"Won't be your problem," Johnson said haughtily, aiming the gun at Monroe's chest. "You'll be dead."

"No way," Rosalee suddenly growled from behind Monroe, wogeing into full Fuchsbau form and lunging forwards before Monroe or Johnson could even react.

"Rosalee! Don't!" Monroe cried, unable to move or think as she charged at the so-called pastor.

Johnson was so focused on Monroe that he entirely unprepared for an angry Fuchsbau in a wedding gown to attack. She caught the side of the gun and knocked it out of his hand as they both toppled to the ground at the top of the altar. Monroe felt his body involuntarily shift to full wolf form as he rushed to protect her.

Everything felt like it was in slow motion as Monroe made his way to where Rosalee and the pastor were now sprawled at the top of the steps, the gun lying carelessly in between them. Before Monroe could even hope to reach them, the pastor regained his bearings first and reached for the gun, grabbing Rosalee by the back of her veil and hauling her roughly up to her feet next to him.

"Don't even think about it Blutbad," Johnson snarled, and Monroe paused, growling in fury as the pastor held his gun directly to Rosalee's temple. Rosalee stopped struggling, shifting slowly back to human form. Her eyes were filled with both anger and fear as she looked back at Monroe.

Monroe growled, his inner wolf fighting to take over completely. He had had doubts before when the church had insisted that they use Pastor Johnson, especially since he had a long history of mistrusting Klaustriechs (or any cats for that matter), and now he realized he had been fooled into believing that this one was any different, _even_ if he was a pastor.

"Don't you dare hurt her," he growled around the enlarged canines now crowding his mouth, poking the insides of his cheeks painfully. His whole body vibrated with anger, every instinct raging murderously against the threat on Rosalee. The woman he loved was in danger and his best friend might _die_ because of whatever sick scheme this pastor had pulled them in to.

"That was a nice try sweetheart," Johnson chuckled evilly, pressing the barrel of the gun deeper into her temple, "but you can't stop me." With one smooth motion, he swung the gun to aim directly at Monroe's head. Monroe froze, shifting back to human form again, and closed his eyes to wait for the impact of the bullet.

"No!" Rosalee screamed, struggling uselessly against the Klaustriech's strong hold on her. "Monroe!"

Just then, the sound of sirens could be heard approaching rapidly in the distance. Pastor Johnson frowned, his aim wavering slightly.

"You hear that, tough guy," Hank said from where he was now standing at Monroe's shoulder, offering whatever support he could. "You're about to be surrounded."

Hank reached automatically for the gun that he normally wore, cursing softly when he realized he was still unarmed. However, he paused to reach into his pants pocket and pull out a set of car keys on a large gold key ring. "I already dropped your partner, and let me guess," Hank motioned to the keys, "that wasn't a part of your get-a-way plan? No way out, man. If you kill anyone, you won't make it more than five feet out of this place. So just put down the gun and give it up."

Pastor Johnson snarled, still holding the gun unsteadily at Monroe, his eyes darting about nervously as he realized that his master plan was quickly crumbling around him. He hadn't been expecting Hank to stop his partner.

"You had better keep them outside," he nodded impatiently towards the front door where the paramedics and Portland PD were rapidly approaching, "or everyone here dies."

Monroe tensed at the cat-like whine to his voice. A deep roar rumbled from his chest before he could contain it, his eyes flashing red again. The only thing stopping him from ripping Johnson limb from limb was the fact that he still had Rosalee in his grasp.

"At least let us get him out of here," Hank gestured at Nick's utterly still form, as Juliette pressed down desperately on his chest. "He's not going to last much longer like this."

"As if I care if the Grimm dies," Johnson scoffed. "Getting rid of _both_ him and the Blutbad would just be a bonus."

"He will die if he doesn't get help," Monroe protested, staring steadfastly at the barrel of the gun currently aimed at him. "And if I'm the job, then there's no reason for anyone else to get hurt," he looked meaningfully at Rosalee. "Please, just let them go, and I won't try anything funny. Promise."

"Just shut-up already!" Johnson snapped, his cool façade quickly fading as he realized he was running out of time, sounding more and more like a cornered alley-cat. He shook his head, tightening his grip on Rosalee. "No one in or out. I need leverage."

"Then take me," Rosalee's quiet voice suddenly broke the building tension, causing both Johnson and Monroe to pause and look at her.

"Rosalee," Monroe interjected quickly, his heart pounding in panic as he realized what she was trying to do.

"No, you need a way out," Rosalee turned bravely to face Johnson directly in the eyes, and he aimed the gun back at her. She stared at him unwaveringly, a mixture of fear and acceptance on her face. "Take me as a hostage. Otherwise you'll never get out of here. Especially if you shoot someone else."

"Rosalee!" Monroe cried out in protest, moving to take a step forwards, but was stopped simultaneously by Johnson moving the barrel of the gun closer to Rosalee and Hank laying a firm hand on his shoulder to stop his ascent up the stairs. "You don't have to do this," he pleaded with her frantically. "Please don't do this."

Rosalee looked at him regretfully, her eyes full of love and remorse. "Yes I do. I can't let him hurt you," she glanced meaningfully at him before looking back at the group, "and Nick can't wait for help." She turned back to Johnson. "I won't fight if you don't hurt them."

She was doing this for him, to save his life. Monroe was tired of the people he loved sacrificing themselves for him for one day.

The sirens were louder, directly outside the front of the church now. Pastor Johnson tensed, tightening his grip on Rosalee's arm.

"Come on," he ordered her, pressing the gun into her back. He turned to look back at Monroe and Hank. "Don't even think of trying to stop me, or this one gets it. And if I see any cops following me…" he motioned threateningly at the gun pressed deeply into Rosalee's back.

"I'm the one you came here for!" Monroe demanded, desperate to keep Johnson from taking Rosalee. "Just let her go, and finish what you came here to do!"

"As much as I'd love to do that, Blutbad," Johnson sneered, "she's my ticket out of here. Besides, I might as well see you suffer before I finally end you."

With that, he started walking backwards towards the door at the back of the altar that led to the offices of the church and the back exit, his gun trained closely on Rosalee. Monroe couldn't do anything but watch in horror as he dragged her away at gunpoint. He moved to go after them but Hank was there, stopping him once again.

"One wrong move and you'll get either you or her killed," Hank told him gently when he saw the look of protest on Monroe's face.

"I can't just let him take her!" Monroe cried out, running his hands haphazardly through his hair, unmindful that he streaked Nick's blood across his face. "Who knows what that animal will do to her!"

"We will find her," Hank reassured him. "I promise." With that, he moved to head towards the front doors where the rest of the Portland PD was approaching. "I'll get all units on the lookout for them. They won't get far."

"You really think that will help?" Monroe protested. "He's Wesen!"

Hank paused, before a dark look crossed his face as he regarded Monroe. "The Captain can help."

Monroe raised his eyebrows skeptically at this. "You really think Renard can help with this?"

"I think he has connections that can," Hank shrugged. "And whatever his agenda is, Nick is important to him, and you and Rosalee are important to Nick, so…"

"Nick."

Monroe turned back suddenly to check on his friend, hoping that he had managed to stay alive during the altercation with Pastor Johnson. He rushed back down the steps to kneel down by Nick and Juliette. "How is he?"

"He's barely breathing," Juliette said quickly, her voice full of panic. "And his pulse is getting weaker. We have to do something!"

Hank hurriedly knelt down next to Monroe, looking down at Nick before regarding Juliette grimly. "We need to start CPR."

Juliette nodded shakily in agreement. "Yea. O-ok. I'll breathe for him…"

"…And I'll start compressions," Hank added hastily, turning to Monroe. "Can you keep pressure on the wound?"

"Yea," Monroe replied incredulously. "Yea, of course." He grappled to push past the mounting panic that Rosalee had just been taken away at gunpoint and that Nick wasn't breathing on his own.

_Is this really happening? _

"Damn it Nick," Hank muttered as he put his hands into position to start compressions. He looked solemnly up at Juliette and Monroe, and let out a deep breath. "Ok, let's do this. One, two…"

Before they could even complete a round of compressions, the paramedics finally burst through the church doors. They quickly surrounded them, kneeling down next to Nick and assessing his rapidly deteriorating conditon. Hank hurriedly informed them of Nick's injuries as he and Monroe stepped back to let them work. Juliette initially refused to leave Nick's side, but Hank gently guided her away so that the paramedics had more room. One young paramedic fitted a mask over his face and began pushing air manually into his lungs, as his partner examined his wound and checked his vitals.

"Victim has a gunshot wound left upper chest, no apparent exit wound, currently unresponsive, BP 70/50, significant hemorrhaging…"

Monroe tuned the paramedics out, turning away and closing his eyes. It was all too much. Nick was bleeding to death and now Rosalee had been kidnapped. He let out a shaky breath, fighting against every primal instinct raging through his body to not go after Rosalee and kill the man that had taken her. It would only get one or both of them killed.

He was startled by a gentle hand on his arm, and opened his eyes to see Juliette staring up at him, looking completely broken. "Monroe…"

The look on her face and the tone of her voice struck something deep inside him. He instinctively pulled her into a tight hug, her face buried against his chest.

"It's ok," he whispered quietly, wishing he sounded more certain than he felt. "He'll be ok."

Juliette nodded slowly, pulling back to look up at him and putting on her bravest face. "And we'll get Rosalee back."

"I don't know." Monroe hung his head, unable to hold her gaze. "He just needed a way out. Who knows what he'll do to her now."

"I'm so sorry…" Juliette said as she glanced back to where the paramedics were loading Nick on to a stretcher, wringing her blood-stained hands together nervously. She turned back to Monroe, and he nodded at her.

"Go."

Juliette pulled him into another crushing hug before looking back at him. "Call me as soon as you know _anything _on Rosalee."

"And you call me as _soon_ as there's word on Nick," Monroe responded firmly. "I'll be there as soon as I can." Monroe felt torn, but Rosalee was in danger and all he could do for Nick right now was wait.

"I know," Juliette smiled sadly, reaching out to squeeze his hand. He squeezed it back firmly, grateful for her calming presence.

"You tell Nick to keep fighting," Hank added as he stepped forwards to envelop Juliette into a tight embrace before she could move away.

"I'll make sure that he does," she said resolutely, looking back at them both. "You two just find Rosalee, and get back to us."

They nodded at her in unison, before she rushed back to Nick's side as the paramedics wheeled him out towards the ambulance. Monroe tried to ignore how completely lifeless and broken he looked as they took him away.

Hank stood stiffly at Monroe's side as they watched them take Nick out. Monroe could sense his hesitation, and knew he was feeling torn as well between worry for Nick and wanting to search for Rosalee. "Hank, if you want to go…"

"No," Hank sighed, shaking his head firmly. "There's nothing more I can do for Nick right now, and I _won't_ let Rosalee end up the same way." He paused, then turned back to Monroe with a regretful look. "Monroe, look, I'm sorry. I didn't realize taking out the first gunman would escalate into Rosalee being taken as a hostage. I didn't think the _pastor_ of all people would be in on this…"

Monroe's eyes flashed red as he regarded Hank. "DON'T be sorry. You took out the guy who shot Nick." He paused, struggling against another woge, and he was certain he was only half-human when he continued. "Might have to stop me from killing him though."

"I might not try that hard," Hank shrugged coldly. "As long as we question him first."

"Hank!" Captain Renard's voice rang out throughout the church, as he came striding purposefully down the long aisle towards them, with Sergeant Wu and several police officers in tow to examine the crime scene.

"Captain," Hank said, motioning for Monroe to follow him over. Monroe took a deep breath, willing himself to be calm. He had to keep it together if he wanted to find Rosalee, and Renard might be able to help.

"How's Burkhardt?" Renard asked them, being careful to keep the conversation to strictly human terms as the other officers moved around them, taping off the crime scene and photographing the bloody mess of the altar steps. Monroe shuddered. It was amazing that Nick even had any blood left in his body. "I saw the ambulance pull out."

"Hit to the chest," Hank told him and Wu seriously. They followed his gaze to Monroe's blood soaked jacket laying carelessly on the ground. "I won't lie, Captain, it's bad…but Nick's tough. He'll make it."

"We better hope that he does," Renard tipped his head in acknowledgement, his eyes flashing dangerously for a brief moment.

"Wow," Wu's eyes widened in horror as he looked at the amount of blood at the bottom of the stairs. "Is that all from Nick?"

Hank sighed, shaking his head. "Yea. But you know Nick…he doesn't give up without a fight."

Wu scoffed, none of the usual snark present in his tone. "True. He had better pull through this."

"He will," Hank agreed firmly. "He has to."

Wu shook his head, looking ruefully back up at them. "Damn. Nick can't do anything half way can he?" He paused for a moment, hands on his hips.

"I swear, Burkhardt holds the department record for visits to medical. But this," he gestured at the stairs, "really takes the cake." He turned to look seriously at Monroe. "This really isn't how I wanted an invite to your wedding."

Monroe just raised his eyebrows at him in silent agreement. Having his best man get shot and his bride be kidnapped at gunpoint really wasn't how he envisioned his wedding going, either.

"Well, don't worry," Wu continued, as he moved slowly backwards towards the crime scene, "you don't take down one of us and get away with it. Whoever did this..." He tilted his head with a knowing look at them before joining the rest of the officers currently swarming around the church.

"You've got that right," Hank grunted, before motioning for Renard and Monroe to move a few feet away, out of earshot of the other officers.

"Captain, we've got another problem," he said urgently, "There was a second gunman, and he took Rosalee as leverage." He paused, shaking his head in disbelief. "It was the pastor."

Renard stiffened at his words, narrowing his eyes at Monroe and Hank. He stepped closer to them, lowering the volume of his voice. "Wesen?"

Monroe nodded, clenching his fists so tightly that he was drawing blood from his palms. "Dirty freakin' Klaustriech. Pastor Johnson."

"Well, he hasn't been pastor here very long," Renard frowned, putting a hand to his chin. "I haven't heard of him."

"No, he hasn't," Monroe growled, whole body radiating with tension. "But when we reserved this place, they made sure that we had to use _him_."

"Hm," Renard paused, "sounds like an inside job to me." He turned to look at Monroe. "You were set up."

Monroe could feel his canines elongating again, and didn't trust himself to speak, knowing he would sound more wolf than man. He simply nodded, staring at the ground and desperately trying to control his emotions.

"I took out the first gunman, the one who shot Nick," Hank informed Renard. "We think he was aiming for Monroe. He took the shot from the balcony."

"Where is he now?" Renard asked, glancing around to make sure the other officers were out of earshot.

"Unconscious in the stairwell," Hank shrugged. "But I bet you that he could be persuaded into telling us where his buddy took Rosalee."

Renard leaned backwards, crossing his arms across his broad chest. "Then why don't you two get started, and I'll take care of this," he motioned slightly to the other officers milling about. He paused, reaching into his pocket and slowly withdrawing his keys. He handed them to Hank. "Move my SUV around to the back door."

"Off the books, huh?" Hank replied quietly, looking unimpressed. That was a common occurrence anymore where Nick and his world were involved.

Renard raised a single eyebrow at him in confirmation, before moving away to talk with one of the nearby officers examining the scene.

Hank put his hands on his hips, looking over at Monroe. "Shall we?"

Monroe nodded, baring his not-so-human teeth. "Let's find out where that bastard took my wife."

* * *

_TBC..._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**

**Sorry for the late update! This fic is getting a lot plottier and twistier than I originally planned, and then Spring Break happened…but I'm back!**

**Thank you again for all your reviews/follows, I read every one and they **_**really**_** do motivate me to keep this going! And a special thanks to Gabi2305, who keeps reassuring me that I'm staying in character (so glad!) and for leaving wonderful reviews in general. I know you're a fan of hurt!Nick like I am, and there's plenty of that to come…so the next chapter's for you! (And for the rest of you h/c junkies). **

**Anyways, enjoy! Happy Easter y'all!**

**~TheFictionalMe**

* * *

_Pain pain painpainpainpainpain._

Everything hurt. It hurt to move. It hurt to think. It hurt to breathe.

The first thing that Nick became aware of was the overwhelming feeling of his chest being crushed, while someone simultaneously carved out his heart with a dull wooden spoon. Breathing felt like he was underwater, uselessly sucking in air through a broken straw.

As he fought his way back through the haze of red and pain, Nick became vaguely aware of voices. Bits and pieces of conversation were floating past him, but he couldn't quite grasp everything they were saying.

And who exactly were _they_?

Someone was telling him to open his eyes _(was that Juliette?),_ and he fought desperately to look at her, but his eyes just. wouldn't. work. It felt as though there were lead weights at the bottom of his eyelids, holding them in place, and no amount of effort or concentration would move them.

The voices continued, becoming slightly clearer now, calling out his name and demanding he look at them.

Mustering every ounce of strength, he was finally able to pry his eyes open. He could just barely make out the blurry faces hovering above him, bleeding together into indefinable shapes and swirling around until they slowly came into focus. It was as if he was looking at them through a fogged window pane, and blinking did nothing to clear his vision. There was Juliette…and that one sounded like Monroe? And Rosalee?

_Where are we? What's going on? And why do they all look so…scared…?_

Nick's thoughts were fleeting and disorganized, unable to form coherently around the agonizing waves of pain crashing over him, as he struggled to remember what had happened. He panicked for a fleeting moment, recalling a distant feeling of danger and that Monroe was in trouble, but Monroe was here with him now and he didn't look like he was hurt so…

_Everything's fine, right?_

He blinked, trying vainly to focus on Hank's face now hovering in the distance, and he tried to listen to what they were saying. But his eyes were so so heavy, and he just couldn't keep them open anymore. Their voices rose in panic now, and they were all yelling frantically at him, begging him to listen, but he just couldn't concentrate on what they wanted through all the pain…

_Funny, it doesn't hurt as much anymore._

Nick could hear someone ordering him keep his eyes open, and someone else yelling at him to hang on, and a gentle hand squeezing his as he lay bleeding out on the floor. He was trying, trying so desperately to answer them, to keep fighting, but it was as if a powerful force kept pulling him back. All the lights and colors above him danced and swirled together dizzyingly, blending together until they all dulled away into nothing but black.

He was slipping away slowly, and he became gradually aware of it as the background of everything faded away. As their voices and the pain moved further and further into the distance, he started to realize what was happening.

_Am I dying? _

The darkness slowly overtook him, and Nick strangely wondered why he wasn't afraid. He felt lighter and disconnected from reality, and yet an overwhelming sense of relief.

_At least they're all safe._

The voices were fading now, calling out to him from the distance, as if they were at the other end of a long tunnel. They were telling him something urgent, and he felt like there was something important he should be remembering…but he couldn't focus on it anymore. He was leaving them; he just couldn't stay any longer.

_I'm sorry._

He drifted away through the darkness, bracing himself for what was coming, feeling both an overwhelming feeling of regret and a sense of readiness for whatever happened next.

Suddenly, there was a new voice, louder and clearer than the others, and it quickly jolted him back to awareness.

"Nick. You shouldn't be here."

He instantly recognized that voice, while simultaneously being unable to comprehend it. Everything was still so dark and disjointed and illusionary, but he knew without a doubt who that voice belonged to. He'd know it anywhere.

_Aunt Marie?_

* * *

"Let's try this again," Renard said coolly, kneeling down in front of the first gunman, a cowardly Schakal, who they currently had tied to a tree in the middle of Portland's forest. No one could hear him scream out here.

The Schakal spit out a glob of blood at Renard, looking at him defiantly even those his eyes were filled with fear. "I'm not telling you anything."

"Tell me where she is before I rip your heart out and feed it to you!" Monroe snapped, lunging forward and wrapping his hands around the Schakal's neck before Renard or Hank could stop him. His claws were elongated, digging sharply into the side of the Schakal's neck, and the Schakal's eyes bugged out of his head as his oxygen supply was cut off.

"Monroe!" he could hear Hank calling to him, trying to pull him back, but all he could hear and see was red. They had been out in the deep woods for nearly an hour, trying to get information from him. The Schakal was stubbornly refusing to give up his partner's and Rosalee's whereabouts or who had hired them to kill Monroe, although they had been making a very convincing argument.

Hank and Renard finally managed to pull Monroe away from the gunman, who sat desperately gasping for breath and greedily sucking air back into his lungs.

"Monroe, listen to me," Hank's hands were on his face, trying to pull him back to reality. "You have to cool it, or you'll kill him before we get what we need."

Monroe slowly shifted back to human, but his eyes remained blood red. He growled at Hank, throwing his hands off of him.

"This is taking too long!" he threw his hands up in frustration. "God knows where his sick friend has taken Rosalee by now!"

Renard raised his eyebrows at him, not looking amused. "You got a handle on it?"

Monroe bared his teeth, but slowly nodded. "For now."

"Good." Renard turned back to the Schakal, slowly pulling a small vial out of his pocket. "If we haven't convinced you that we're serious, maybe this will."

The Schakal's eyes widened, looking more terrified then he had during the whole interrogation.

"Oh, so you know what this is?" Renard said casually, popping the top off of the vial and waving it close to the Schakal's face.

"You wouldn't dare," the Schakal snapped back, but he trembled slightly in fear as he eyed the vial.

"Just like you wouldn't dare shoot _my_ Grimm in _my_ canton?" Renard's voice didn't rise in volume, but it was so icy cold that it made Monroe shudder.

So _this_ was the Royal at work. Monroe briefly wondered if Nick knew that Renard referred to him as _his_ Grimm, but stored that information away for a future conversation.

"I-I told you," the Schakal stuttered, looking briefly at Monroe and Hank as if they would be of any help, "the job was the Blutbad! The Grimm wasn't supposed to get in the way!"

"Doesn't really matter now, does it?" Renard shrugged nonchalantly, voice as sharp as a razor blade. "Either way, you will tell me what I want to know. Who do you work for? And where did Johnson take Rosalee?"

The Schakal shook his head, leaning back as far as he could against the tree to get away from the vial in Renard's hands. He clamped his mouth shut tightly, refusing to answer.

"Very well," Renard sighed, looking to Monroe and Hank as if he was bored. "Hold his head for me."

"Captain," Hank asked hesitantly, looking slightly unsure. "I'm all for taking him down for what he did to Nick…but is that…?"

"Not poison," Renard replied simply.

Hank paused as Monroe looked back at him in confusion. "Then what…?"

"Truth serum," he said patiently, still waiting for Monroe and Hank to help him.

"Oh." Monroe felt dumbfounded. _That works too, _he supposed to himself, even though he would have preferred forcing poison down the Schakal's throat at this point. He quickly recovered, moving forwards to hold the Schakal's mouth open while Renard dumped the entire contents of the vial down his throat. The Schakal choked and gagged, but was unable to break out of Monroe's strong grip.

After it was gone, Renard threw the empty vial to the ground with a slightly disgusted look on his face, looking the Schakal directly in the eyes.

"Now," Renard said calmly, "tell me…where is Rosalee?"

* * *

"Do you think this is the place?" Monroe asked anxiously as he and Hank crept along the wall of the abandoned warehouse _(why did it always have to be a place like this?)_ that the Schakal had immediately broken and told them about after he had ingested the serum. Monroe shook his head, still amazed at Renard's methods.

Hank grunted. "You heard the Captain. The guy couldn't lie about anything after he took that serum. That's why he was so afraid when he realized what it was. With the secrets he probably knows..." he shook his head, gesturing at the warehouse. "This is it."

They stuck to the shadows along the edge of the warehouse on the far outskirts of Portland, at what was apparently their base of operations. As it turned out, Johnson was the brains of the two, and had carefully planted himself in the church once there was word of Monroe and Rosalee's upcoming nuptials. The Schakal had spilled that he and Johnson had been hired by a member of _one_ of Royal families, but since he was just the hired gun, only Johnson knew their true identity. All the Schakal really knew is that the Royal who had ordered the hit had been made aware by another interested party that Monroe was both marrying out of species _and _friends with a Grimm. Johnson, being a fanatical purist against any changes to the natural order of Wesen life, had gladly accepted the job and schemed his way into the church, selecting the Schakal as his accomplice.

The plan hadn't actually been to take out Nick, since that had already failed so miserably before with the Cracher-Mortel. However, thanks to the zombie fiasco, the Royals in Europe were now well aware of Nick's uneasy alliance with Renard. It seemed that this particular Royal's agenda was to remind both the Portland Grimm and Bastard Prince of their presence, while simultaneously sending a message to any Wesen who were thinking of breaking the old ways by making an example out of Monroe.

Monroe sighed. This had already happened once before because he was friends with Nick, and Angelina had subsequently been killed because of that ignorance and abuse of power. Now he might lose _both_ Nick and Rosalee because of that same prejudice. His eyes flashed red again, and he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself before he gave away their vantage point of surprise.

Someone would pay for this.

Monroe continued to creep along the wall behind Hank, who had his gun pointed out ahead of him in his outstretched hands. Monroe had decided to go the old-fashioned way with just his Wesen strength, but had readily agreed to the bullet-proof vest that Hank had insisted they both wear. Renard had stayed behind to deal with Schakal, but promised he would join them as soon as he could. It was too risky to send any officers to their location since they were dealing with a trigger-happy Wesen who had Rosalee at gunpoint.

Monroe paused, his enhanced hearing catching faint voices through the thick stone walls.

"Wait," he hissed under his breath, causing Hank to stop in his tracks and look back at him over his shoulder.

"What is it?" Hank whispered urgently back, waiting to see what Monroe had heard.

"I think I hear her," Monroe's eyes flashed as he turned back to Hank. "He has her in this middle room I bet."

"Ok, well there's no door on this side," Hank gestured at the formidable brick wall between them. "And it's completely dark in there. He's probably walking us into a trap. How do you suggest we do this?"

Monroe looked around, desperately thinking of a way to sneak in and save Rosalee. He leaned back against the wall, racking his brain for an idea. He paused suddenly, turning to Hank with a small smile.

"I have a plan."

"Uh oh," Hank looked at him skeptically. "For some reason I don't think I'm going to like this."

Monroe snorted. "Probably not. But it's the best option we have right now." He looked seriously at him. "Let me go in first and I distract him while you get the element of surprise."

"I can't just send you in there alone," Hank protested, every bit of his cop training going against it. "I might not get to you in time."

"Yes you will," Monroe feigned confidence, but he wasn't even sure he believed it himself. "I can see better in the dark, and if there's a trap waiting, I'll be ready. You can never trust a cat."

"So what, I just wait out here and hope that you guys fight it out like cats and dogs?" Hank scoffed, briefly lowering his gun and checking the safety.

"Hey, I resent that," Monroe shot back, before sighing and looking earnestly over at him.

"He wants me, Hank," he countered, his gaze deadly serious as they argued the merits of his plan, "so that's what he's gonna get."

Hank vehemently shook his head. "If Nick was here, there's no way he'd let you do this."

Monroe's heart clenched at the mention of his name, and he noticed the same pained-look on Hank's face. "If Nick was here, he'd argue with me, pretty much like you are now, and then he'd agree and go along with it because his plan wasn't any better." He raised his eyebrows knowingly at Hank.

"Damn." Hank sighed, shaking his head. "Ok. But don't try to be a hero. We don't know who's in there, or if he's working alone."

"It's a chance we have to take, man," Monroe replied. "Nothing will stop me from getting to Rosalee."

"I know." Hank looked up seriously at him. "Ok, let's do this. But I swear to God, if you do something stupid like get yourself killed…"

"I won't I won't," Monroe quickly reassured him, but he vaguely wondered if he would end up the same way as Nick. Or worse.

After he and Hank worked out a signal, Hank crouched down near the front of the dilapidated building as Monroe snuck around to the front entrance, carefully peering into the darkened room. It was empty and deadly silent, with no sign of anyone around. Monroe paused, carefully sniffing the air, but the only fresh scents he caught among the smell of metal and damp soil were Rosalee's and Johnson's.

He carefully crept through the large open room in the darkness, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dim lighting. He paused, zoning in all his senses for any potential dangers in the darkness, but surprisingly nothing was there. He slowly headed towards another door in the crumbling wall at the back of the first room. Cautiously, he reached for the broken metal handle and pried it open as silently as possible.

There was a faint light glowing from an open door further down a long rusted-out hallway, and Monroe supposed that was where Johnson was holding Rosalee. He paused as their voices drifted towards him as he crept down the hallway towards the open door. It felt like miles instead of just feet.

"You know, that Blutbad boyfriend of yours has been a lot more trouble than he's worth," Johnson said caustically, and Monroe couldn't help but smile when he heard Rosalee's reply.

"He's going to be even more trouble when he finds you," Rosalee snapped back. "You're going to regret ever doing this to us."

"My, my, so feisty," Johnson purred back, and Monroe started walking even faster down the darkened corridor. "No wonder he broke all the rules to be with you."

"Why is it so awful that we want to be together?" Rosalee questioned, and Monroe could hear the anger and defense in her voice. "It isn't hurting anyone else."

"It's hurting everything we stand for!" Johnson yelled, and Monroe could hear his fist pound heavily into something sharp and metal in anger. He hurried his pace, only ten feet, five feet from the door now. Almost there…

"We can't allow him to give ideas to everyone else! It would be absolute chaos if Wesen ran rampant ignoring the ways of our kind! Not only is he with you, a Fuchsbau," Johnson said with a tone of disgust, "but he's friends with a Grimm. A_ Grimm_. The one thing devoted to chopping off our heads and putting it on a stick. Unacceptable! He needs to be made an example of. And I will gladly finish the job I was paid to do, one way or another. In fact, I'd do this job for free."

Monroe barely contained a growl as he stopped just outside the door. This guy was definitely going down.

"Monroe and I love each other," Rosalee shot back, "and Nick isn't like the Grimms that we grew up hearing about. He's different, and he's our friend. The one who should be eliminated is you."

"Maybe I should just ease my troubles and eliminate you right now," Johnson snarled. "You're extra baggage I don't need, anyways."

"Please, wait," Rosalee protested, and Monroe could hear the fear laced in her voice underneath the anger, "you don't need to kill me. The more of us you hurt, the harder it will be for you to get away with this."

"I don't need advice from you," Johnson shot back, then paused, chuckling evilly. "Too bad I have to kill you now, but this really has been fun. Good riddance, Fuchsbau, compliments of Prince Renard."

"Prince Renard?" Rosalee asked in confusion, "What do you…" she was suddenly cut off as Johnson struck her, causing her to let out a yelp of surprise and pain.

Monroe saw red. He was supposed to wait for Hank, to signal for him first, but that was all immediately forgotten when he heard Rosalee cry out. Already in full woge, he rushed into the room, tackling Johnson who was standing with his hand raised, ready to strike Rosalee again with the butt of his gun as she was tied helplessly to a chair in the middle of the small room.

He caught Johnson completely by surprise, and they landed with a hard thud on the dirt floor, wrestling wildly as Johnson tried to turn his gun around and aim. It was no use this time.

All Monroe's primal instincts took over as he tore into Johnson, all teeth and claws and fury. He wasn't even aware when Hank entered the room or when Rosalee continued to call out his name.

When it was over, Johnson lie still in a bloody heap on the floor, and Hank was untying Rosalee. Monroe stood, slowly shifting back to human, before opening his arms and pulling a now freed Rosalee tightly against him, his whole body shaking with anger and fear and relief.

"Did that monster hurt you?" Monroe whispered into her ear as she clung to him for dear life.

"No, no, not too badly," she replied softly, and he quickly pulled back to check her over carefully himself. Her once beautiful wedding dress was torn and dirty, streaks of blood and mud in various places on the silken fabric. She was bleeding slightly from a wound along her hairline where Johnson had struck her, and there were some claw marks and bruises along her arms. Otherwise, she was miraculously unharmed from her harrowing ordeal.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry," Monroe said sadly. It was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives, not one tragedy after another. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

"Doesn't matter. We'll plan an even better wedding. Right now the only thing I care about is that we're both alive. You saved me," she looked up at him, and he kissed her then, long and deep.

"How am I going to deal with this?" Hank wondered to himself as he surveyed the crime scene, but they really weren't paying any attention to him as they clung to each other in the dark shadows of the warehouse, just grateful that they were back together, safe and sound.

Hank turned back to Monroe and Rosalee, who were still wrapped around each other desperately. "You guys ok?"

Monroe angled his head to look at him, as Rosalee nodded against his chest. "Yea, we're ok. Just glad this is over."

"You know, I can't say I'm mad about what you did," Hank said quietly as he looked at Johnson's still form, "but now we'll never know who hired him to kill you."

Monroe sighed. In the back of his mind, he had known that, but found that at the moment he didn't care. "No, but he won't be the only one. As long as I keep being friends with Nick, someone will always be after us."

"Unfortunately, that's probably true," Hank smiled grimly in agreement. He paused then, frowning as he knelt down next to Johnson, closely examining a small object strewn on the ground. "Wait a second," he muttered as he picked it up, holding the object up and showing it to them.

It was Johnson's cell phone.

"Well, I might be able to get something off of this," Hank told them hopefully as he put the phone carefully in his pocket. "I'll take it back to the precinct and see what the lab can get off it. Otherwise, we've got nothing."

"Wait, he said something," Rosalee furrowed her brows in confusion, looking at Monroe and Hank. "He said that this was 'compliments of Prince Renard'. What does that mean?"

Monroe shrugged, distantly recalling hearing Johnson say that before he had rushed headfirst into the room in full woge. Everything was pretty much a blur after that. "How many Renards are there?"

"Well, there's only one 'Prince Renard' left, as far as I know," Rosalee's eyes widened as she looked at them.

"He couldn't have meant the Captain…could he?" Hank asked them hesitantly, looking completely perplexed.

Monroe frowned, furrowing his brow. "I mean, I might not really trust him, but Nick has been working with him for a while now, and he obviously has an interest in protecting Nick and keeping him on his side. And having me killed would be a surefire way to turn Nick against him, so I don't think he'd be behind something like this, especially with how it went down. Look at what happened."

"Yea, it wouldn't make any sense. He wants Nick on his side, for whatever that reason may be. Then why would Johnson say that?" Rosalee asked, looking up at Monroe.

"What about the Captain's brother?" Hank asked, putting a hand thoughtfully to his chin.

"You mean the Captain's _dead_ brother?" Monroe looked skeptically over at Hank.

"Well, supposed to be anyways," Rosalee raised an eyebrow at him. "Look at Nick's mom. Sometimes people aren't really as dead as we think they are."

"So," Monroe wondered out loud, "could Eric be alive?" That possibility had never crossed their minds before, but maybe he had somehow survived the car bomb, or maybe it wasn't even him in the car.

"Or maybe someone wants us to think he is?" Hank added with a sigh. "This just keeps getting deeper and deeper. I'm afraid we might not like what we find once we figure this out."

"Then maybe Captain Renard _wants _us to think his brother is alive, so that we wouldn't suspect him?" Monroe shook his head. "I don't know, I'm really reaching here."

"So what, have you very publicly executed at your wedding, only to have Nick find out the truth and then kill him in return?" Rosalee questioned, looking up at Monroe from where she was still locked in his tight embrace. "For what good reason he would want you dead, especially when it would only make Nick turn on him?"

"I mean, we don't really know the extent of the Captain's involvment with this Royals business," Hank gestured widely with his hands, "so maybe there's something bigger in the works here with the Captain that we just don't know about. We don't really know why Nick is so important to him, besides a reluctant ally. Hell, I don't even think Nick really knows. Still," he placed his hands on his hips, "I don't see why he'd do this either. Besides, look how much he helped us tonight. We never would have found Rosalee if it wasn't for his help."

"But," Rosalee shook her head, "then why would Johnson tell me that? He was about to kill me, so he didn't think I'd be able to tell anyone else. So why even say it?"

Hank paused, running a hand haggardly over his face. "I don't know. Something isn't adding up here."

Monroe sighed deeply, pulling Rosalee even tighter against him."Well, whatever it is, we better figure it out, and fast, before somebody else gets hurt."

Just then, the shrill ringing of Hank's cell phone in the quiet warehouse startled them all. Monroe half expected it to be Renard, and the three friends looked at each other, wondering what they should say to him after what they had just learned from Johnson.

"Maybe we should wait until we figure out what's going on," Monroe told Hank, glancing at the ringing phone as he pulled it out of his pocket, "before we let Captain Renard know what Johnson said. Just in case."

"Agreed," Hank nodded vaguely in agreement as he moved to answer his phone. He paused when he saw who was calling, and Monroe frowned when he noticed the expression on Hank's face rapidly change.

"Hey, tell me something good," Hank hurriedly answered, and Monroe and Rosalee froze, trying to hear the other side of the conversation. It wasn't Renard.

"Hey, hey, slow down," Hank told whoever was on the other end. "Wait, what? Now?...Juliette, slow down, I can't hear you…hey, it's gonna be ok, just sit tight…we've got Rosalee, she's ok…yea…we're coming."

Monroe and Rosalee both watched him with anxious expressions on their faces, waiting with baited breath to hear the news on Nick. Hank quickly hung up and looked worriedly over at them.

"We need to get to the hospital. Now."

* * *

_TBC_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:**

**So, fair warning, this one is **_**angsty**_**. I apologize now if this makes any of you cry…but if it does then I guess I've accomplished what I set out to do with this chapter.**

**And much continued thanks for all of the FANTASTIC reviews. Please let me know what you think of this chapter…**

**Enjoy?**

**~TheFictionalMe~**

* * *

Monroe gripped Rosalee tightly to his side the entire ride to the hospital as Hank wildly sped his way through Portland's city streets, lights flashing and siren blaring.

He could feel her shaking slightly against him, and he nuzzled her cheek, beyond grateful that she was safe and in his arms again. He didn't know, didn't _want_ to know, what he'd have done if he'd lost her forever.

But now they might be losing Nick.

All they knew from Juliette's frantic phone call was that Nick was crashing and that they were rushing him back into emergency surgery.

It wasn't looking good.

Monroe swallowed thickly as he buried his face in Rosalee's hair, and she leaned even harder against him, squeezing his knee in reassurance.

"It's going to be ok, Monroe," she whispered quietly to him, her head nestling against his shoulder.

Monroe sighed deeply, wrapping her even tighter against him as he rested his chin on top of her head.

"It has to be."

* * *

They burst through the doors of Portland General, and Monroe knew they must have been a sight, covered in blood spattered and ripped wedding attire. Several pairs of questioning eyes followed them as they rushed frantically through the hallways on Hank's heels towards the surgery waiting room.

They found Juliette sitting in a hard plastic chair in the corner, looking completely lost and shaking ever so slightly, still dressed in her bloodied bridesmaid dress. She had her bare feet drawn up on the chair, her arms wrapped around her knees and hugging them tightly to her body. When they burst into the room, she leapt to her feet and ran over to them, falling into Hank's outstretched arms.

"Juliette," he said gently, before pulling back to look at her urgently. "What's going on?"

"When Nick first came out of surgery and he was critical, but stable," she told them, tears welling up in her eyes. "But then his sats started dropping, and they think there's still some internal bleeding," she paused, taking a shaky breath, "and his lung c-collapsed…" She stopped, looking up at the ceiling and blinking desperately. "The doctors are doing everything they can…but they just don't know…"

"Oh Juliette," Rosalee breathed, quickly coming forwards and pulling her into a tight hug.

"Rosalee! Thank God you're alright," Juliette whispered hoarsely, hugging her tightly back.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Rosalee reassured her, pulling back to look sadly at her friend. "Monroe and Hank rescued me."

"And the men who did this?" Juliette asked darkly as she reached a shaking hand up to brush away a tear.

Monroe stepped forward then, pulling her securely against his chest. "They've been taken care of," he said quietly in her ear, and he knew she understood his meaning. They would tell her the rest of what they'd learned later, when Nick's life wasn't hanging precariously in the balance.

Juliette pulled back, nodding slowly at him, her eyes flashing with something unreadable. "Good."

"So," Monroe asked then as his eyes flickered anxiously to the closed swinging doors between them and the surgery unit, "now we just wait for the doctors to tell us something?"

"Yea," Juliette replied quietly, hugging her arms around herself tightly and shivering. "We have to wait…until they come out and tell us…" she dropped off, shaking her head and biting her lower lip.

Hank crossed his arms over his chest and stared forlornly at the OR doors. "We could be waiting a while."

"Well, waiting is going to drive me up the wall," Monroe replied impatiently as he began pacing back and forth in front of the OR doors. He felt his inner wolf raise its head again, and he felt slightly like a caged animal, being helpless to do anything for Nick but wait.

Hank sighed, turning to him. "Why don't you take Rosalee to get that cut taken care of?" he motioned at the sluggishly bleeding wound on the side of Rosalee's head. "Until Nick's doctors come out, we won't know anything."

"No way," Rosalee protested. "The cut isn't that bad. We aren't leaving."

Monroe looked up to meet Hank's and Juliette's questioning gazes. As much as he wanted Rosalee to get checked out as well, he understood exactly why she was refusing. He squeezed Rosalee's hand tightly in his, his heart clenching painfully. "We just can't leave you guys right now. Not after everything that's happened tonight."

"Exactly," Rosalee agreed resolutely. "You guys are our family. We aren't going anywhere."

"Guys," Juliette said softly, stepping closer to them, her eyes wet and shining in the harsh waiting room light. "It's ok." She turned to Rosalee. "Please, see a doctor. You could have a concussion. I can't stand the thought of anyone else being hurt."

Rosalee sighed in defeat, glancing over at Monroe as she dropped his hand to pull Juliette into another bone-crushing hug. "Ok," she agreed softly. "But we'll be right back. I swear."

"And we'll be waiting right here," Hank said firmly, hands on his hips. "Please, go."

"Promise you'll come get us the moment you hear anything," Monroe told them, still reluctant to leave when they didn't even know if Nick would come out of this.

Juliette nodded in understanding. "Promise."

With that, Monroe and Rosalee flagged down a passing nurse, who took one look at Rosalee in her torn wedding dress and Monroe's bloody suit and immediately found them an examining room, conveniently around the corner from the OR unit.

"A doctor will be right with you," the nurse smiled kindly, trying her best not to look taken aback at their appearance and failing.

"Thank you," Rosalee mustered her best smile, and then the nurse quickly stepped out, closing the door firmly behind her.

Monroe sighed wearily, leaning heavily back against the door and pulling out his phone. He had a dozen missed calls and messages from both his parents and Rosalee's family, undoubtedly wondering what had become of them after the wedding. Things had been so hectic after the wedding with trying to find Rosalee that he hadn't even thought to call them or let anyone know what was going on. He sent out a quick group text letting everyone know that they were alright and that they would call soon, further ignoring their replies and sliding his phone back into his pocket. He could only deal with so much in one night.

He looked up as Rosalee wearily took a seat on the examining table, mindlessly fingering the layers of her tattered wedding dress and blinking back tears. Monroe looked at her sadly and walked over, giving her a gentle kiss. "Your dress was beautiful."

She looked up, smiling at him through her tears. "Yea. It was."

"I'll make this up to you. I promise," he told her firmly, moving her hands from where they were tangled in the ripped fabric and interlacing her fingers with his.

"You have nothing to make up for," she reassured him, squeezing his hands. "This was _not_ your fault. It was those monsters who did this to us, and whoever hired them. No one else."

"Still, this happened because someone was after me," Monroe said bitterly, shaking his head and averting her gaze. "I feel I'm due some of the blame here."

Rosalee reached a hand up, gently cupping the side of his face and forcing him to look her in the eyes. "No. Don't Monroe. Don't do this to yourself. This was completely out of your control, you have to realize that."

Monroe placed his head in his hands, trying to get a handle on his emotions and breathing deeply. He felt Rosalee pull him closer to her and wrap an arm supportively around his back. He looked up, feeling overwhelmed and raw, and gently fingered the wound on the side of her head.

"I almost lost you tonight," he began slowly, and she leaned into him, touching their foreheads together. "I don't know what I would have done…if I hadn't gotten you back…" he paused, his throat closing up.

"Hey, hey, I'm ok, we're both ok, Monroe," Rosalee reassured him quietly, rubbing her nose gently against his. "You can't think about the 'what-ifs', or it'll drive you crazy."

"I know, I know," Monroe sighed heavily. "But I can't help it. What if I wouldn't have found you in time? What if Nick hadn't pushed me out of the way?" He paused, choking up slightly, "What if…Nick dies because he saved me?" He stepped away from her and began pacing around the small hospital room, unable to calm his frayed nerves.

"Monroe, he'll be ok," Rosalee said softly, and Monroe paused to look at her with a pained expression.

"We don't know that," he countered, shaking his head and running a hand haphazardly through his hair. He took a deep breath and glanced back over at her. "You saw how bad it was…back at the church…"

"Nick is strong," Rosalee countered, reaching out to grab his hand and pulling him to sit reluctantly on the examining table beside her. "He'll make it. We have to keep believing that."

"And if he doesn't?" Monroe said brokenly, turning to look at her as they sat on the table. "He took a bullet for _me_, Rosalee. How am I supposed to live with that?"

Rosalee looked back at him sadly as she squeezed his hand again, but she didn't have an answer for him this time. Monroe felt the sting of hot tears that were now burning in the back of the eyes, but they refused to fall, and he briefly wondered what was wrong with him that he couldn't even cry. He just felt numb with the reality of everything that had happened. It was finally crashing down on him, and he felt like he was free falling. Rosalee pulled him tightly against her then, and he buried his head to rest against her shoulder. Monroe held on to her as if she was the only thing anchoring him to the world, and at the moment, it felt like she was. They sat in silence for several moments, arms wrapped tightly around each other, not needing to say anything. There was really nothing left to say.

And that was exactly how the doctor found them when he walked into the room.

* * *

The doctor was almost finished patching up Rosalee's cut when Hank called Monroe.

"He's out of surgery."

"We're on our way," Monroe replied quickly, and motioned with his head at Rosalee. Without another word to the doctor, they both leapt up and ran from the room.

They were breathless by the time they reached the room in the ICU that Hank had directed them to. They simultaneously skidded to a stop outside the room, Monroe reaching out to steady Rosalee as she stumbled over the hem of her gown.

Hank was waiting for them outside the room, leaning back against the door frame. Monroe swallowed thickly past the growing lump in his throat, approaching him slowly. "Is he…?"

"Still fighting," Hank grunted as he looked at them. "He's too stubborn to give up now."

He paused, letting out a shaky breath. "You guys can go in. Just…prepare yourselves," he motioned wearily at the door. "I have to call the Captain now, but I'll be right out here."

"What are you going to tell him?" Monroe asked hoarsely as he regarded Hank.

"Nothing about what we know," Hank replied, "but we've got to act normal until we know more. I'll just tell him Nick's status and ask him what to do about..." he trailed off, but they both knew he meant the scene in the abandoned warehouse. Monroe just nodded stiffly in agreement.

"Did you tell Juliette?" Rosalee asked, looking over at Hank.

"Yea, I've filled her in," he replied quietly, "and she agrees that we should wait and see what we can find out before we say anything to Renard. Speaking of," he gestured to his phone, "I've got a call to make."

"Ok," Rosalee told Hank softly, and he nodded tersely at them. They both watched Hank slowly walk away, every step stiff and measured with the weight bearing on all their shoulders. She turned to look up at Monroe. "Are you ready?"

Monroe just nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He took a deep breath, and they opened the door to the darkened hospital room and stepped inside.

The harsh overhead lights were dimmed, but the room was still partially lit by the various machines that Nick was hooked up to. He lay pale and motionless on the bed, thick bandages wrapped around his bare chest. There were multiple IV's near the bed, as well as a bag of blood as part of an ongoing transfusion to replace the precious quantity he had lost. The most shocking thing was the ventilator that he was currently hooked up to because he wasn't breathing on his own, and Monroe couldn't tear his eyes away from the machine, knowing it was the only thing currently keeping Nick alive.

Juliette sat in a chair by the head of the bed, clutching Nick's limp hand tightly in hers, even though he wouldn't respond to the touch. She stiffened slightly as they entered, but didn't turn away from Nick. She knew they were there.

Monroe and Rosalee came to stand at her shoulder, and she finally turned to look up at them, looking completely drained and exhausted.

"How is he?" Monroe whispered into the darkness, clutching Rosalee's hand unconsciously with one hand and gripping Juliette's shoulder gently with the other.

Juliette let out a shuddering breath as she leaned into his touch, gripping his hand on her shoulder with hers. "The doctors think that they stopped the internal bleeding and repaired most of the damage to his lung, but he's not breathing on his own, and he lost a lot of blood…" she trailed off, sniffing slightly as she wiped her face on her sleeve. "They still don't know."

Monroe and Rosalee were silent for a moment, absorbing the information as they looked at Nick. Monroe swallowed, unable to tear his gaze from his unmoving form. He looked halfway dead already, and if it wasn't for the ventilator…

"Can we?" Rosalee asked gently, gesturing towards Nick's bed and taking a cautious step closer.

"Of course," Juliette replied quietly, smiling shakily through her tears. "Talk to him. Nick would want to know you guys are here."

Rosalee nodded, dropping Monroe's hand and moving around to the other side of the bed. "Oh Nick," she whispered, reaching over to squeeze his other hand. Monroe paused with baited breath, unable to fight down the false hope that Nick would respond. He continued to lie utterly still, unaware they were all around him and silently begging for him to wake up.

"We all need you, you know," Rosalee told him fiercely, "so you had better come back to us." She leaned down to place a kiss gently on his forehead before pulling back, unsuccessfully blinking back tears. "Thank you. Thank you for saving him," she whispered to Nick's still form before she turned to look up at Monroe gratefully. She gently squeezed Nick's hand one more time and slowly stepped away.

Monroe turned away, unable able to watch, feeling like he was on the edge of breaking. Even though rationally he knew that he hadn't done this to Nick, that this was the fault of whoever wanted him dead, he couldn't help the overwhelming surge of guilt and sadness that washed over him. Nick had saved his life, but it might be at the cost of his own. He let out a shaky breath, unable to make eye contact with Rosalee or Juliette for fear of losing it completely in front of them. There was just no way he was ready to see Nick like _this_.

Just then, a petite older nurse with slightly graying hair entered the room quietly, coming over to the monitors to check Nick's vitals. She looked sympathetically at them all, laying a hand gently on Juliette's shoulder.

"He's stable right now," she informed her quietly, offering Juliette a warm smile. "That's an encouraging sign."

"Thank you," Juliette replied softly, looking up at her gratefully, but she was unable to force a smile.

"You guys should get some rest," the nurse frowned as she looked them all over carefully. "Running yourselves into the ground isn't going to help him any."

"I'm not leaving," Juliette said firmly, shaking her head and turning back to Nick. "He needs us."

Monroe faced the nurse, regarding her seriously. "I'm sure you hear this all the time, and I don't expect you to understand, but we really can't leave him right now."

He really didn't expect her to understand the overwhelming pack mentality that was currently surging through his veins, going to the very base of his primal instincts. Nick was hurt and needed their protection. Nick was family. Nick was _pack._

He wasn't leaving.

"Actually, I do," the nurse shrugged, as she slowly woged to reveal her true Eisbiber form.

"Huh." Monroe hadn't been expecting that. It was abnormally brave for an Eisbiber to be in the same room with a Blutbad, a Fuchsbau, and a Grimm (even an incapacitated one) and not freak out. Monroe had to admit that he was impressed.

"Now," the nurse chastised them gently as she shifted back to human form, "if you won't take my advice, at least let me help you." She left the room briefly and then returned, carrying some hospital-issue baby blue scrubs in her hands. She motioned to Juliette and Rosalee, both still wearing their tattered dresses. "Here girls, put these on. If you're going to stay here all night, at least you should be comfortable."

Juliette hesitated, looking completely taken aback by her kindness. "I don't know. I don't want to leave him…"

"Thank you," Rosalee interrupted, stepping forward and gratefully accepting the scrubs. She was desperate to change out of her destroyed wedding gown that just constantly reminded her of the failed wedding. She turned to Juliette. "Come on," she urged her gently. "Let's get out of these dresses."

Juliette shook her head firmly, looking back at Nick. "No. I don't want to leave him alone."

"He won't be alone," Rosalee reassured her, squeezing her hand. She turned to look at Monroe. "Monroe will stay with him until we get back."

"I don't know," Monroe interrupted, his heartbeat rising in panic as he had an unreasonable reaction to letting Rosalee out of his sight.

"Monroe," Rosalee laid a hand gently on his arm, knowing exactly why he was afraid, "we'll only be gone for a few minutes." She glanced briefly down at Nick. "Talk to him. He might hear you."

Monroe sighed, reluctantly agreeing with her. "Ok. But if you guys aren't back in a few minutes…"

"We will be," Rosalee said firmly, tugging on Juliette's arm and half-dragging her away from the bed.

Juliette paused as they walked by Monroe, and reached out to grab his hand, her eyes meeting his. "Take care of him for me."

"I will," Monroe bravely held her gaze, and then they left the room, leaving him alone with Nick.

He paused, shoving his hands uncomfortably in his pockets as he moved closer to the bed. He sighed as he looked down at Nick's motionless form, before dropping unceremoniously into the now vacant chair by the bed. Now that he was alone with Nick, the only noise to keep him company was the sound of the ventilator slowly pushing air into his lungs. The gentle rhythm echoed deafeningly in the quiet room.

_Beep. Whoosh. Beep. Whoosh._

Monroe sighed again, trying to get comfortable in the hard plastic hospital chair, but found it to be an impossible feat. No matter what he did, every position was just as uncomfortable as the last.

_Beep. Whoosh. Beep. Whoosh. _

He glared irritably at the machine as it continued the steady noise, unable to block it from his mind. But as much as the sounds of the ventilator were grating on his nerves, Monroe was silently grateful for one thing: It meant that Nick was still alive. There was still hope.

_Beep. Whoosh. Beep. Whoosh._

Running a hand roughly over his face as he leaned forward in the chair closer to Nick's bed, he looked at the utterly still figure before him. He let out an audible growl, barely able to suppress the wolf within at the sight of his friend lying so unresponsive and still in the bed, only breathing with the help of a machine.

Monroe propped his elbows on the edge of the bed by Nick and buried his face in his hands, finally letting his guard down now that he was alone.

That bullet had been meant for him.

_Beep. Whoosh. Beep Whoosh._

Monroe kept replaying the scenario at the wedding over and over again in his mind, trying to figure out what they could have done differently, how he could have stopped Nick (yea right), how they might have seen the gunman first or even known that Pastor Johnson was in on it, and how he desperately wished that it was him instead in that hospital bed with a bullet in his chest. Nick didn't deserve this, and he didn't deserve for Nick to save him.

It was so unfair.

Monroe could still hear the gunshot echoing clearly in his ears. It was a sound he wouldn't soon forget.

Nor would he forget Nick bleeding out at the church as his blood seeped through his hands, or a gun being held to Rosalee as she was dragged helplessly away from him.

Those images were burned into his memory forever.

_Beep. Whoosh. Beep Whoosh._

And now Nick might die, and he still felt responsible, no matter what Rosalee said. The guilt was weighing down on him, literally crushing him, and he couldn't breathe. Another low growl, more wolf than human, escaped from his throat, and Monroe sank his head deeper into his hands.

"It's not your fault, you know," a deep voice said behind him, and Monroe sat up instantly, chagrined that he had been so distracted he hadn't even heard someone enter the room.

He scoffed, turning his eyes back to the bed. "Don't try to make me feel better, Hank. It won't work."

Hank was in the doorway now, returning from his phone call to the Captain. He came further into the room, stopping beside him to look down at Nick.

"Stop beating yourself up about this," Hank continued quietly, as both men gazed down at their fallen friend. When Monroe looked up to protest, Hank raised a hand to stop him. "And don't tell me you're not because I know that you are. But believe it or not, I think Nick knew what he was doing."

"Yea, being a chivalrous idiot, as usual," Monroe muttered, before letting out a long sigh and looking sadly back at Nick. "That should be me, Hank. Not him. Me."

"No," Hank shook his head quickly, clapping a big hand on his shoulder in support. "Don't think like that. That's not going to help Nick, and it's not going to help you. No one blames you, man."

Monroe nodded silently, but didn't bother to reply. Deep down he knew that, he really did, but he couldn't help it. He felt accountable for Nick getting shot, when he was clearly the intended target.

"How is he?" Hank said after a few moments of silence passed between them.

Monroe shrugged helplessly. "The same, I guess. I don't know."

Hank nodded, putting a hand to his face in deep thought. "Nick will pull through. He always does."

Monroe looked up at Hank again and the two men made eye contact. Monroe wanted with every ounce of his being to believe what Hank was saying, but he wasn't even sure that Hank believed it himself.

"How's Rosalee?" Hank asked gently, turning back to look at Nick. "I saw her and Juliette in the hallway, looked like they were going to change or something."

"Yea they are. She's okay, physically," Monroe answered slowly, clenching his fists unconsciously. "And she's trying to keep it together, to be strong for me, but…" he trailed off, clenching his jaw and forcing his canines not to elongate in the middle of the hospital room. Rosalee had had her dream wedding ruined by two madmen with guns, shooting at her future husband and hitting one of her closest friends, and then was subsequently held at gun point and taken hostage. Yet, she was still being the supportive one for _him_. He continued to be amazed by her.

"She is strong," Hank added with a note of admiration. "She was great back there, in the church, with everything..."

"Yea, she was," Monroe nodded proudly. There was no doubt about that.

And he had almost lost her. It was too much to bear.

"And Juliette," Hank added quietly, "How was she when I left?"

Monroe slowly shook his head, letting out a deep breath. "She's tough. Damn tough to be able to handle _our_ world and still stick around. But she's scared for Nick…I mean, we all are," Monroe gestured ruefully at Nick's motionless form on the bed. He paused, running a hand over his face before looking back at Hank dejectedly. "I just, I don't know. All I can think is that she will end up secretly hating me for this happening to Nick. I can't say that I would blame her for that."

Monroe swallowed hard past the growing lump that formed in his throat. It was so difficult to look in Juliette's pained but hopeful eyes, knowing that Nick might die, and all because he had tried to save him. "Hell, I blame me. Nick shouldn't be here."

Hank offered him a small smile. "Seriously Monroe, stop blaming yourself. I know she doesn't, and she wouldn't. That's not Juliette. And you are her friend, and she needs you right now. She needs _all_ of us right now, especially if…" Hank stopped short, unable to finish his sentence. He cleared his throat, gaze settling back on Nick. "Nick would want us to watch out for her."

Monroe nodded in resolutely in agreement. "I know. That's the least I can do. He saved my life."

Hank snorted. "He's your friend, Monroe. Did you really expect anything different?"

Monroe gave Hank a pained but knowing smile, shaking his head. "No, not really."

For as long as he had known Nick, he had always put others first, usually before himself, because that's just who Nick was. Unfortunately, Nick also didn't usually consider all the consequences when someone he cared about was in danger, and he might not walk away from it this time.

Hank nodded, patting Monroe's shoulder again before heading for the door. "I'm sorry, I have to get back to the precinct for a bit and deal with…everything. Can you guys stay until I get back?"

"Of course," Monroe agreed quickly. "We aren't going anywhere."

"Ok," Hank replied gratefully, looking sadly down at Nick. "We're going to find out who did this, one way or another."

He looked back up to meet Monroe's gaze. "The Captain doesn't seem to suspect that we know Johnson said anything, far as I can tell." He paused, running a hand roughly down his face. "God, I wish Nick would just wake up so we could ask him how he wants us to handle this."

"You and me both," Monroe replied quietly. Hank tipped his head at him in agreement, starting to move away when he suddenly stopped, backtracking his way to Monroe.

"Oh," his eyes widened, "I almost forgot." Hank reached into his pocket to pull out a small plastic bag. He sighed, before hesitantly handing the plastic bag over to Monroe. "The nurse gave these to us when Nick came out of surgery. They were in the pocket of his suit jacket."

Monroe froze as he examined the contents inside the bag and realized with a sinking heart what they were. Inside the bag were his and Rosalee's wedding rings, which Nick, as his best man, had been charged with safe-keeping during the wedding.

They were now stained a deep shade of red with Nick's blood.

Hank didn't miss the horrified look on his face and quickly apologized. "Sorry, with everything that's been going on, I didn't have a chance to wash them off."

"No, no, it's ok," Monroe shook his head, looking somberly back at Hank. "I'll take care of it." He slowly slid the bag with the blood-stained rings into his pocket, trying not to focus on how they got that way.

"Alright," Hank shifted uncomfortably, looking down at Monroe and sighing. "Sorry man, I've really got to get down there."

"Yea, no problem," Monroe reassured him, trying to plaster on a believable smile, but he knew Hank could see right through it. "We'll be here."

"Ok," Hank nodded, before he stepped forwards to look at Nick, frowning as he came closer to the bed. "And you had better keep fighting, Nick. I mean it. No quitting on us now," he whispered fiercely, before firmly squeezing Nick's shoulder and turning back to Monroe. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Just hang in there, man. And make sure that Nick does the same."

Monroe turned in his chair to meet Hank's solemn gaze. "I will."

Hank gave him a wry smile. "Good." Then he was gone, and Monroe was alone with Nick once again.

_Beep. Whoosh. Beep. Whoosh._

Monroe leaned forward, staring at the face of the unconscious Grimm for a long moment, and silently berating himself for wishful thinking that Nick might suddenly wake up.

"Dude," he breathed, shaking his head sadly, "what did you do to yourself?"

There was no response from Nick, not even a twitch or a spike in heart rate, but Monroe really didn't expect there to be. It made him even more determined.

"C'mon man, you have to wake up. Enough lying around already, don't ya think?" he pinched the bridge of his nose before looking back at Nick again seriously.

"This wasn't how it was supposed to happen, Nick. And if you die for taking a damn bullet for me, which was incredibly stupid by the way, then I will never forgive you." He paused, blinking past the sudden tears blurring his vision before continuing. He didn't even try to stop himself when he instinctively reached out to grasp Nick's clammy hand tightly in his own. "I'll never forgive myself."

Monroe stopped, taking a deep breath as he bowed his head in guilt and shame. "Damn it," he muttered through his tears as they finally came, blinking them back uselessly.

"You know, before you came crashing into my house and accused me of a crime I didn't commit, I led a peaceful life, a quiet life. And I liked it. But then there you were, baby Grimm on his own with no one to guide him, and somehow _I_ became that person for you," Monroe scoffed through his tears, shaking his head in disbelief at the memory. He squeezed Nick's hand again before he continued. "And you wake me up in the middle of the night for help on cases more times than I care to remember right now, or expect me to go to the trailer with you at a moment's notice. In fact, before I met you, my life wasn't in danger on a regular basis. It was actually pretty normal. Well, as normal as life for a reformed Wesen can be, anyhow. Until you came along, my life was easy, predictable even," he shook his head ruefully before continuing.

"But I'll tell you what, at this point, I'll just forget about that gift basket." Monroe attempted to laugh, but it came out more like a broken sniffle. He stared blankly at Nick as the tears finally escaped and started streaming freely down his face. He was barely aware of them and made no move to brush them away.

"Being friends with you has quite literally turned my life upside down. And you know what? I wouldn't change a thing."

It was true. Nick had changed his life, and had made it indisputably better, had given him a purpose again. And then he had met Rosalee because of Nick, and Monroe would always be eternally grateful to him for that.

Somewhere in the back corner of his mind, the thought popped up of how ridiculous an image it would be to see a Blutbad crying over a Grimm and holding his hand, and he couldn't help but smile through his tears. His smile quickly dissipated as he leaned closer to Nick, hoping somewhat foolishly that maybe Nick could really hear him.

"Nick," Monroe breathed, trying to steady his voice, "y-you're the closest friend I've ever had. I mean, hell, you're not just family, you're _pack_. And I don't throw that word around lightly, you know that. Man, I'll even admit it here…I need you in my life." He paused again as his voice cracked, and he tried desperately to regain his failing composure. "We all do. So please, please come back. You have to pull through this."

He crumpled then, burying his face helplessly in his folded arms on the edge of the bed as he pleaded for a miracle.

"Nick, you just, you can't die…you just can't…"

* * *

_TBC_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:**

**Well I hope you are all recovered from that last chapter, sorry for making some of you shed tears (and in HipsterMaybe's case, your husband too!). But really, I take it as a compliment that I was able to achieve the angst level I was aiming for, so THANK YOU for the reviews! I loved them **_**all**_**. **

**This chapter was the toughest one for me to write so far, and I really hope all the parts come together and make sense with the thickening plot. Let me know either way! It's been great to hear what some of you are speculating…time to find out if you're right!**

**~TheFictionalMe**

* * *

"Hank's right you know," Rosalee looped her arm through Monroe's as they headed out through the main entrance of the hospital. "You really need to get some sleep."

Monroe glanced back at her, his face clearly lined with fatigue. "And you really expect me to get some sleep with all of this going on?"

Rosalee shook her head sadly, looking a little defeated. "No, not really. But you need to try to rest at least."

Hank had all but manhandled Monroe out of Nick's hospital room, noting how Monroe had been there nonstop and that he clearly needed to take a break before he keeled over from pure exhaustion. But Monroe knew that getting any sleep was going to be next to useless.

It had been three days. Three days and still no change. Nick's doctors assured them continuously that he was improving, even though he hadn't woken up yet and he was still on the ventilator, fighting for his life.

Monroe knew what the doctors really meant was that they were amazed that Nick was even still alive. Monroe figured that it must have something to do with Nick's Grimm heritage that he still was.

As they stepped out through the sliding glass doors, Monroe paused, taking a deep breath of the cool night air as he tried to relax his frazzled nerves. He froze as a familiar and unwelcome scent suddenly reached his nostrils, and he felt Rosalee tense next to him as the same scent reached her.

Monroe quickly swung his head towards the dark shadows to the right of the hospital entrance, barely suppressing a snarl as he asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Well," a snide voice answered, "I was just checking up on Nick." A figure slowly stepped out of the darkness and into the brightly lit area by the hospital doors.

Adalind stood before them, smirking widely, and Monroe wanted nothing more than to wipe the disgusting Cheshire cat grin off her face. She regarded Monroe and Rosalee with a look of pure pleasure evident on her features. "Tell me, how is our favorite Grimm? Still alive?"

"What do you want?" Monroe snapped irritably as he glared at her. "And why are you here? Last we knew, you were off traipsing through Europe again. No one's heard from you for weeks."

Shortly after they had deceived Adalind and sent her daughter away with Nick's mother (it was all for the greater good), Adalind had fled back to Europe on the false notion that Prince Viktor had her child, and she was desperate to get her back at any cost. Nick had told Monroe that Renard had tried to stop Adalind and convince her to stay, knowing that Viktor would just kill her (and that he didn't have baby Diana anyways). However, Adalind couldn't be swayed and she had gone, but not before threatening to make them all pay for not helping her. Luckily, it didn't seem that she knew of their true involvement in Diana's disappearance. No one had heard from her since, and they had all assumed that she was dead by now.

"My mistake, I thought we were all friends now, since you so graciously helped to _protect_ me and my daughter," Adalind spat with a tone of disgust. "So, were you guys in on the little plan to take my daughter away from me, or was that all Nick's idea?"

Monroe hesitated, unsure how much she may have learned and not wanting to give away the baby's true whereabouts. Did she only think that Nick had helped set up the hand-off to Viktor, or did she know what they had really done?

Rosalee responded before Monroe could gather his thoughts. "Oh no, we're not friends. But we _are_ Nick's friends, and he asked for our help, so we gave it, no matter how ridiculous we might have thought it was to help you," she replied heatedly. "Don't think we've forgotten all the terrible things you've done, like trying to kill Juliette and Hank. Our protection was about your baby. Not you."

"Oh please, spare me," Adalind rolled her eyes, her smirk quickly changing to a look of loathing as she regarded them. "After everything I've done? What about everything Nick's done? Or you?" she looked at them knowingly. "Don't pretend to be so perfect. We all have pasts."

"Well how do you know this wasn't Renard's idea?" Monroe shot back, clenching his fists unconsciously. "Don't blame this on Nick. Renard was the one who handed your daughter over to the Prince of Darkness, if I remember correctly."

"Because," Adalind hissed, her eyes flashing with contempt, "Nick's mother was a part of the distraction to get my daughter away from me, just long enough so that Sean could hand _our_ daughter off to the Royals. Besides, I know there's no way he would have willingly given her up if Nick and his mother hadn't convinced him that there was _no_ other choice."

She paused, for a moment, composing herself with great effort and crossing her arms over her chest. "And as it turns out, Kelly was so conveniently released from police custody, for murdering my mother I might add, and is once again nowhere to found. So now I only have Nick left to answer for giving my child away."

"If you take even one step closer to this hospital," Monroe growled as he moved forwards, towering menacingly over her. Rosalee came to stand at his shoulder, glaring murderously at Adalind.

"Now, now," Adalind tsked, gesturing upwards towards the hospital security cameras that they were currently standing directly under, "we wouldn't want to get violent in public, would we? Especially with so many witnesses."

Monroe hesitated, glancing up at the cameras before taking an infinitesimally small step back, as Rosalee reluctantly did the same. He paused for a moment as an older couple moved directly past them and through the hospital doors, throwing curious glances their way.

He turned back to Adalind, eyes shining with fury as he lowered his voice. "I'd be glad to take this somewhere more private if you'd like to...talk."

Adalind's eyes darkened as she looked back at them. "As much as I'd love that, no. That's not why I came. So you can both relax, I'm not here to hurt Nick. It sounds like he already did a pretty good job of that himself."

She paused, a slow smile spreading across her face. "I just wanted to see if you both liked my wedding present."

* * *

Death was nothing like Nick had imagined it would be. It was so dark and so quiet, and there was just complete stillness at the end. As much as he had fought to hang on, to not give up, he had just faded away into nothing and then it was all over.

_Is this really it? _

It was so still and quiet now, the voices of the ones he loved now gone, and in the deafening silence he wished desperately that he could hear them again, just one more time, wherever he was now.

_I didn't want to go._

But he had heard _her_ voice, that much he was sure of, and he wondered where he was now, alone in obscurity once again. He floated through the darkness, trying to find some semblance of reality and figure out what he was supposed to do next. Although he hadn't been ready for this, he was sadly grateful that he hadn't been alone, and that everyone he loved had been there with him at the end.

_ I just hope they're all okay. _

Suddenly in the distance, a gentle beeping reached him, steadily growing louder with each passing minute. He struggled to concentrate on where and what it was in the darkness, but he had no control over what was going on. This didn't seem like death. This was different.

_Where am I?_

As the beeping grew increasingly louder, tiny pinpricks of feeling started to creep across his whole body, making him shudder involuntarily. He blinked suddenly, dumbfounded at the fact that he could do any of these things at all, as someone who was supposed to be dead.

_What's happening to me? _

Bright light flooded his vision as his eyes cracked slowly open, making them instantly water, and he abruptly shut them again. After a moment, he slowly pried them back open, blinking rapidly against the harsh light assaulting his retinas.

It was then that the pain hit him full force, reminding him agonizingly that he was still very much alive.

He tensed, closing his eyes against the piercing pain that crushed his chest until he couldn't breathe, and he struggled to draw in a deep breath of precious air. But there was something large and foreign in his throat, choking him and cutting off his air supply. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't fight, and he was dying all over again. Somewhere in the distance, the beeping had changed to a shrill alarm, and he thought it might have something to do with him but he wasn't sure of anything at all in that moment except that he couldn't breathe.

Then, there were gentle hands on his face, on his chest, rubbing calming circles and trying to get his attention. There was a voice in the distance, too quiet and far away for him to make out who it was or what they were saying, but through the muddled fog the words attempted to reach him.

There were more voices now, and it was steadily getting louder around him, as both the voices and the alarm continued to rise shrilly. Nick panicked even more, trying to suck in air and choking again on whatever was still trying to kill him. He was distantly aware of a pinprick on his arm, and a familiar voice finally broke through the haze.

"Nick, breathe."

He slowly began to relax, as the pain started to fade and he was eventually able to pull more air into his aching lungs. The voices above were gradually becoming clearer. With great effort, he pried open his eyes into half-slits and could make out more blurry faces hovering above him _(seriously that was getting old)_, and then his eyes finally fell on a recognizable shock of chestnut hair.

_Juliette. _

Her face came more into focus as his system slowly calmed and his breathing regulated, the pure agony fading into a dull throbbing, and then he could see her lips moving slowly above him. He knew then that it had to be her voice that he had heard. He instantly felt relieved, knowing that wherever they were, they were here together and that she was safe.

"It's ok, Nick. You're ok. Let it help you breathe."

He was just able to fully focus on her face and meet her worried gaze before the drugs pulled him back under.

* * *

Monroe froze in horror at Adalind's words as the realization dawned on him. "You," he breathed, staring back at her in disbelief, "you were the one behind all this?"

"You were the one who hired someone to kill Monroe?" Rosalee asked in shock, her whole body trembling as she gaped at Adalind.

Adalind burst out in laughter, shaking her head at them. Monroe started to move forward again, ready to rip her apart for what she had done to them, but only Rosalee's firm grasp on his arm stopped him. He glanced up in frustration at the cameras nearby, silently debating if going to jail would be worth it.

Adalind took a deep breath, regaining her composure. "You guys aren't very bright, are you? Of course I didn't hire the hitmen on you, I'm not stupid," she replied condescendingly. "I just made sure that the right people were involved and that they had the right motivation. It was really pretty simple after that."

"Why?" Rosalee snarled as she glared at Adalind, "why would you do this to us? We helped protect your daughter, whether or not you believe that!"

"The only thing you did was take my daughter away from me!" Adalind snapped back. "And it's only fair, that after what Nick took from me, he knew what it was like to lose someone he cared about."

"Are you kidding me?" Monroe was incredulous. Nick had already lost a lot (including what he had thought were both of his parents for most of his life), and Adalind had successfully taken Juliette away for a while, after Nick had taken her powers. "You've already been down this road with Nick once before, and look how well that worked out for you!"

"That's the beauty of Nick and I's working relationship. We're predictable, in that sense." She smirked again. "Of course, I'm pretty sure none of you saw this coming, least of all Nick. I suppose that's why he's in the condition he's in now," she shrugged, almost looking bored. "This wasn't the outcome I expected, but I can't say I'm disappointed by it."

"Why are you telling us this? Why confess?" Rosalee questioned angrily. "What's your angle?"

"Ah, yes, the great problem-solver," Adalind scoffed, turning towards Rosalee. "Such a good question." She paused, narrowing her eyes as she looked at them both. "Maybe because I want you to know the truth about who _really _did this. As much as I'd love to, I can't take the credit."

"Yea right," Monroe shook his head doubtfully. "There's no good reason why you would tell us, or that we would believe you for that matter."

"Suit yourselves," Adalind shrugged, moving to walk away, carefully staying in plain sight of the security cameras. "By the way, I figured out that Viktor doesn't have my daughter. And never really did, actually." She glared at them. "But of course, you already knew that, since you helped to fake her disappearance. So, who do you suppose told me the truth? Since clearly no one from your little gang thought I should know what happened to my child."

Monroe paused, frowning at that. So she knew the truth about that (or at least part of the truth anyways). "Well, I'm assuming Viktor told you himself when you stupidly went to confront him."

Adalind laughed. "Yea right, he'd kill me." She smiled when she saw their reactions, knowing that they'd assumed Viktor would do the same thing and had, in fact, thought he already had.

"Can't say I'd blame him," Monroe muttered, and Adalind smiled grimly at his words. He narrowed his eyes at her. "So it's true then. Eric Renard is still alive, and you convinced him to do this."

Adalind shook her head, smirking at them again. "Seriously, that's the best you can come up with? Eric is dead. _Someone_ made sure of that. Try a little harder."

"Oh, just tell us already,'" Rosalee demanded in frustration, "or don't, we've had enough of your games, Adalind. Who told you?"

"Who do you think?" Adalind said impatiently. "Who else would care as much as I do about what happened to my child and want revenge for having her taken away without a choice?"

Monroe furrowed his eyebrows as he looked skeptically at Adalind. "Renard?"

Adalind smiled again, raising her eyebrows at them. "Well, this chat has been lovely, really, but I have to get going. Don't worry, you won't be seeing me again for a while." She moved slowly backwards towards the parking lot, staying in the well lit areas and carefully avoiding a young man who went rushing by towards the hospital entrance.

"I hope Nick feels better," she called out in a sickeningly-sweet voice to them, and then she was gone into the night.

Monroe and Rosalee just stared at each other in shock, trying to register what had just happened.

"So, let me get this straight," Monroe asked in confusion, "Renard told Adalind the truth about Viktor not having their baby, and what we did, so she went on a revenge streak and convinced someone to put a hit out on me, in order to get back at us and Nick for helping take her daughter away?"

"Not just someone," Rosalee looked back at Monroe with a pained expression, "she means that she convinced Renard to do it."

Monroe looked dumbfounded. "But you said it yourself, why would Renard do this when it would only turn Nick against him? As far as we know, he still wants Nick working with him, or maybe for him, I don't really know. Either way, having me killed wouldn't be a way to, ya know, support that."

"True," Rosalee sighed, "but sometimes people do crazy things when they lose the ones they love, especially parents and their children. Maybe Adalind was able to turn him somehow and see her side."

"Yea, I guess she did have a point about Nick and his mother convincing Renard to give the baby up. It was obvious he didn't like the idea, I mean who would, but he agreed with it because it really was the best thing for her, and the world at large," Monroe shook his head. "But, Renard putting out a hit on me? Seriously?"

"I don't know," Rosalee ran a hand roughly through her hair, "but Adalind wants us to think he is the Royal who put the hit out on you. She has a reason for telling us this, I just don't know what."

"Of course she does," Monroe nodded in agreement, "from what we know of her, she never does anything without a reason. But still, this whole thing seems a little far fetched, even though we've had our suspicions. Besides, how do we know she is even telling us the truth? She's not exactly trustworthy."

"I'm not sure what to think anymore," Rosalee shrugged helplessly. "But I think either way, Renard _is_ connected to this somehow."

"I think we need to talk to Hank and Juliette," Monroe replied, glancing backwards at the doors behind them. "They need to know about this."

With that, they both turned and rushed back inside the hospital, heading directly for Nick's room.

* * *

"So what do we do now?" Juliette said quietly as they huddled in the corner of Nick's room, trying to keep their voices low so no one would overhear them.

Monroe sighed resignedly. "I don't really think that this can wait any longer."

"Me either," Hank let out a deep breath. "After what Adalind said, I don't think we have a choice but to confront the Captain now."

"So what, you're just going to walk up to him and demand he tell you the truth?" Rosalee asked, shaking her head. "That's not going to work."

"Well," Monroe replied, "I mean, what else are we gonna do? We can't just ignore this either."

"But how do we know he'll even admit anything?" Juliette questioned, looking carefully at the whole group. "It's not like he's been forthcoming before. Why would he even admit to it?"

"We won't know until we talk to him," Hank shrugged, "and at least we can see what excuse he'll come up with when we tell him about Adalind."

"Wouldn't it better to wait and see what else you can find out," Rosalee added, "before letting him know that you suspect he's involved in this somehow?"

"Well besides Johnson's cell phone, we have nothing else to go on," Hank put his hands on his hips, "and hopefully we'll have something once I get the data back from the lab, but since it's just a burner phone, there might not be a lot to get. Otherwise, the only other move we have is to ask the Captain himself." Just as he finished his sentence, his phone rang, and Hank smiled. "Speak of the devil," he muttered, "it's the lab now." He turned away, answering his phone. "Griffin." Pause. "Yea? Great, send them to me now."

"I can't believe Nick actually woke up for a minute," Monroe changed the subject, looking at Juliette with relief. It only figured that the one time he had actually left Nick's room, he would wake up. "What did the doctors say? Is that a good sign?"

Juliette smiled tiredly at him, squeezing his hand. "Yea, they said it's good that he regained consciousness, even though it was brief. He's not ready to come off the ventilator yet," she glanced hopefully over at Nick's still form in the bed, "but they said he's getting better."

"It's a step in the right direction," Rosalee smiled, laying a hand gently on her shoulder. "Nick will come back to us. I know it."

"I know," Juliette smiled gratefully at her. "Thanks. I'm just so glad you guys are here."

"Of course," Monroe nodded at her, "although, I'm not so sure Nick will be glad when he wakes up and hears about what we're about to do."

Juliette looked knowingly at him. "Probably not, but he'd be glad you guys are working so hard to figure out who did this. You and Hank had just better be careful."

"Definitely," Rosalee gave him a stern look. He knew she was beyond worried that he and Hank were actually going to confront Renard, after everything that had already happened. She and Juliette were staying behind with Nick, just in case Adalind decided to return to the hospital, leaving him and Hank to deal with Renard.

"We will be. Maybe the element of surprise will work in our favor," Monroe replied hopefully as Hank finally hung up, "since Renard doesn't seem to know that we've learned any of this yet."

"You know, Adalind could just be lying again," Juliette gritted her teeth in disgust, "and trying to pit us against Renard."

"I don't think so," Hank shook his head solemnly as he checked his phone email. "Look at this."

He turned his phone around to show them the data from Johnson's phone. There was a list of phone numbers, with one at the top listed more frequently than the others.

"What is this?" Monroe asked, furrowing his brows at Hank as Juliette and Rosalee peered over his shoulder. "Whose number is that?"

"Those," Hank sighed deeply, "are the most frequent and recent outgoing calls that Johnson made from his phone, right up to your wedding."

"I recognize the number," he paused, regarding them all seriously. "It's the Captain's."

* * *

"So, we're really doing this?" Monroe asked Hank hesitantly as they stood outside Renard's building in the brisk night air. He stared forebodingly up at the penthouse, feeling more than a little intimidated. There was _no_ way Nick would have approved of their plan.

Hank raised a single eyebrow at him. "You got a better idea?"

Monroe sighed deeply. "No, not this time." He motioned casually at the door as he swung it open. "After you."

Hank marched directly up to the front desk of Renard's building, flashing his badge and giving the doorman their names.

The doorman immediately buzzed Renard's room, and after he got the confirmation, sent them up the elevator without a second glance.

"Guess we're kind of ruining the element of surprise, aren't we?" Monroe muttered as he climbed in to the elevator behind Hank.

Hank glanced over at him as he hit the button for the penthouse. "Well, we could wait to do this tomorrow at the precinct, with everyone else around, but how well do you think that would go over?"

"Uh, not too well," Monroe agreed. "Guess we better do it here."

Hank nodded as they stepped off onto the top floor. "Besides, he probably thinks we're here to talk about Nick or more about the hit…which I guess we are," Hank smiled grimly as they reached the door. He stopped with his knuckles raised to knock, looking at Monroe. "You ready for this?"

"Yup," Monroe replied shortly, bracing himself for whatever was about to happen on the other side of the door.

At Hank's knock, Renard swiftly opened the door, looking down at them cynically from his expansive height.

Monroe swallowed dryly. _Here it goes._

"Gentlemen," Renard greeted them, stepping aside to let them in.

"Sir," Hank said in a clipped tone, and Monroe quickly followed him into the penthouse. He stopped a moment to take in the swanky surroundings and observe the huge window with an incredible view of Portland, and he couldn't stop himself before the words were out of his mouth.

"Wow. Nice place."

Renard raised an eyebrow at him. "Thanks. But something tells me that isn't why you guys are here."

_Oh. Right to the point then._

"Yea, I can't say this is a friendly house call," Hank replied, putting his hands firmly on his hips as he faced Renard, Monroe standing at his shoulder.

"Didn't think so," Renard nodded, walking over to his wet bar and opening a bottle of scotch. He turned to look back at them. "Drink?"

Hank shook his head, as Monroe put his hands up in polite refusal. "Uh, no. Thank you."

"Suit yourselves," Renard shrugged nonchalantly, pouring a tall glass on the rocks and striding back over to them. He took a long sip before looking back up. "So, how's Nick? I haven't been able to make it back up to the hospital."

"He's still alive, if that's what you mean," Hank said, the suspicion clear in his tone. Monroe tensed next to him, narrowing his eyes at Renard. If this was the guy who wanted him dead, who was the reason that Nick nearly was…

Well, then things were about to get ugly.

If Renard noticed their demeanor, he made no comment on it, just nodding slowly and taking another long draw from his drink. "Good. Let's hope he keeps improving then."

"Yea, you'd like that, wouldn't you," Monroe muttered to himself, noting the skeptical look Renard gave him this time.

Renard turned back to Hank. "So, let's get to the real reason you guys are here. Have you made any progress on who might have hired Johnson and his accomplice?"

"Funny you should ask," Hank narrowed his eyes at him. "We just got a new lead."

"Yea, a really _interesting_ one at that," Monroe chimed in, but quickly backed off when he saw the warning look that Hank gave him.

"Really?" Renard mused, setting down his now empty glass on the counter behind him and looking at them curiously. "Interesting how?"

"Well," Hank took a step forward, looking directly at his Captain, "guess who made a surprise visit to the hospital tonight?"

"And may I say, not a welcome one," Monroe shook his head in disgust.

"Let me guess," Renard sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Adalind."

Hank and Monroe looked at each other in confusion, taken aback at Renard's words. They hadn't been expecting him to readily admit knowing that.

"So you knew she was here?" Hank asked skeptically, staring back at Renard.

"Yea," he nodded, leaning back against the counter. "She's been back for a while."

"Well, then I suppose you know that she now knows your crazy cousin Viktor doesn't have the baby," Monroe replied crossly, clenching his fists.

"Yea," Renard raised his eyebrows, "since I told her myself."

"I'm sorry, excuse me?" Monroe asked, freezing for a moment to look at Renard in confusion. Was Renard actually admitting to this?

"Are you kidding me?" Hank narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "So you're saying you're the one who told her Viktor didn't have the baby?"

"I am," Renard nodded steadfastly, "but I told her before she even left, to try and keep her from going back to Vienna, because I knew Viktor would just kill her on sight. Despite what you all may think of her, she is the mother of my child, and she gets a certain amount of respect for that. But it didn't matter anyways, because she still went to Vienna even with my warning not to go."

"After everything we did," Monroe growled in disbelief, "to help you and your daughter, you went and told Adalind the truth anyways? What the hell man?"

"This is ridiculous," Hank added heatedly, "why would you do that?"

"Like I said, I was trying to keep her alive," Renard was unwavering, looking back at them coolly. "After what I've done to her, I owe her that much. I thought if she at least knew that Viktor didn't have the baby, then she wouldn't go."

"So did you also tell her what we all did to help Nick's mom take the baby away?" Hank speculated, pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation. "This is getting so twisted."

"No, I didn't say that," Renard disagreed, shaking his head. "I only told her that Viktor didn't have the baby, and that the Resistance did now. She still doesn't know where the baby really is. She came to the conclusion on her own about Nick and his mother convincing me to give Diana up, and she's not entirely wrong on that part," he looked knowingly at Monroe and Hank, "but she only assumes that's what happened, and that you guys probably helped Nick. I didn't tell her."

"Captain," Hank squared his shoulders, "I'd like to believe that, and I _really_ don't want to ask you what I'm about to ask you, but this is looking worse by the minute."

"Seriously," Monroe agreed, tightening his jaw. "So much for not making yourself look guilty. I mean, you knew Adalind was back, and you didn't even think to, uh, tell us that?"

"I didn't want her to get suspicious," Renard replied calmly, barely ruffled by their underlying accusations. "I've been having her followed."

"Followed?" Hank asked in confusion, as he and Monroe exchanged another bewildered glance.

"I knew she was up to something, and I wanted to find out what," he replied simply. "Knowing Adalind as I do, she's always up to something."

"Yea, you mean like convincing someone to put a hit out on me at my wedding?" Monroe wasn't able to contain the anger or frustration any longer. He moved closer to Renard, his eyes flashing dangerously red. Hank stood at his shoulder but made no move to stop him.

"So let's see, Adalind is back, you told her that your deranged family doesn't have the baby, and she now claims to have helped set the hit up on me, that currently has Nick fighting for his life, in case you've forgotten," he said incredulously. "And what, we're just supposed to believe you're innocent in all this?"

Renard didn't flinch, but looked back at Monroe coolly. "What exactly are you getting at here?"

"What he's trying to say, sir," Hank bit out with a tone of disgust, "is that we know the truth."

"And what is the truth?" Renard raised his eyebrows at them.

"Adalind convinced you to kill me to get revenge on us for taking away your kid!" Monroe growled, fists clenched into growing claws now. "Don't deny it."

Renard had the decency to look mildly surprised at his accusation, looking over at Hank. "And you believe this too?"

Hank looked back at him evenly. "Trust me, I didn't want to, especially with anything that comes out of Adalind's mouth. But," he sighed, "then I got back the data from Johnson's phone, and it had your number all over it."

Monroe narrowed his eyes at Renard. "You care to explain that one?"

Renard sighed, shaking his head. "So, let me get this straight. After everything I've done to protect Nick and help all of you, you _really_ think that I would have you," he looked directly at Monroe, "killed, knowing that Nick would never just let that go?"

"That's what we thought at first," Hank replied, a little doubt creeping into his voice, "but after what Adalind said, and after we got the data back, it's hard not to think that."

"Not to mention," Monroe added firmly, "when Johnson was about to kill Rosalee, he said it was 'compliments of Prince Renard'. Now, as far as we know, you are the _only_ Prince Renard left. And thinking he would have no witnesses, what would be the point of Johnson saying that?"

"Now that _is _interesting," Renard mused at Monroe's words, "and those are all valid points," he nodded, regarding them both seriously. "But I didn't set up the hit. That would go against everything I've been working for."

"Well, sorry sir," Hank replied caustically, "but you're going to have to do better than that if you want to convince us that you aren't involved in this."

"And if you are…" Monroe fearlessly held the deadly stare Renard gave him in return. Renard finally looked away, moving from the counter towards the center of the room.

"Come here," he motioned for them to follow him to his desk facing the large bay window, "I want to show you something."

Hank hesitated, reaching instinctively for his holstered gun, before deciding against it and nodding for Monroe to slowly follow. They kept a cautious distance, still unsure if they trusted the bastard prince and what he was telling them, police captain or not.

Renard procured a key and unlocked the top drawer of his desk, effectively sliding out a burner phone and a manila envelope.

"What's this?" Hank asked as Renard handed him the phone.

"That," Renard gestured at the phone now in Hank's hand, "is the phone I use to conduct all private business, here and abroad. Now, if I was going to set up a hit on Monroe, don't you think I'd use this instead of my own personal number? Knowing that you could trace it anyways?"

Hank hesitated while Monroe stopped in surprise, the red quickly fading from his eyes.

"Yea, that would make sense," Hank mused quietly, turning the phone over in his hands. "We just figured you didn't think Johnson would get caught or that we'd get a hold of his phone. Obviously, the hit didn't exactly go as planned."

"Well take this, run the data," Renard shrugged, gesturing at the phone in Hank's hand. "I have nothing to hide from you."

"Then why _is_ your personal number on Johnson's phone?" Monroe asked, looking at Renard quizzically.

"It's not Johnson's phone."

"What?" Hank asked, looking back up at Renard. "It is a prepaid, but he bought it over a month ago and has been using it consistently. We tracked his credit card information."

"Yea, he may have bought it and had it on his person when you found him, but he wasn't the one using it," Renard replied, picking up the envelope and handing it over to Hank. "See for yourself."

Hank furrowed his brows, and Monroe moved closer, peering over his shoulder to see the contents inside. Hastily ripping open the top, Hank reached in and pulled out a stack of pictures taken through a long-range lens.

Adalind and Johnson, somewhere in Forest Park, in what appeared to be more than one meeting. In one of the very last pictures, she was handing him what looked to be a cell phone, much like the one Hank had found next to Johnson.

Monroe looked up at Renard. "What does all this mean?"

"It means," Renard began, "that Adalind isn't as clever as she thinks she is, and whether or not she hired the hit men, she definitely helped to set it up."

"So, you're saying that she was using this phone to contact you?" Hank asked, searching for clarification.

"Yes. She got back from Vienna about a month ago and contacted me on this number multiple times. She said it was because she had finally forgiven me and she just wanted to make amends…but I know her better than that. She'll never forgive me, or any of us, for taking away Diana." Renard sighed, putting a hand to his chin. "She wanted it to look like I had been in touch with Johnson this whole time, when it reality it was her. No one except for me, and now you, knew she was back."

"Wait a second," Monroe shook his head, "why would she want it to look like you had something to do with all this?"

"I'm not sure," Renard replied, "but I really think she was hoping that if you were killed, Nick would think that I set it up and come after me, and one of us would take out the other, or maybe both." He shrugged. "When things didn't go the way she planned, she met you at the hospital to send you after me, hoping you'd still believe that I would do this." He paused, looking at them both carefully. "Do you?"

Monroe and Hank looked at each other again, before Hank sighed, handing the pictures back to Renard.

"I really want to believe you had nothing to do with this, Captain," he said, as Renard took the pictures and relocked them in his desk, "and for the most part, I do."

"Yea," Monroe ran a hand over his face, looking tiredly at Renard, "I mean, I can't say that I exactly trust you right now, or anything, but honestly, I don't really think this was you either."

"Fair enough," Renard nodded, "and I'm sorry about telling Adalind that Viktor doesn't have the baby. I thought I was doing the right thing," he sighed, placing a hand to his chin thoughtfully as he looked back at them, "and I hope to God I did the right thing for Diana."

"You did," Hank reassured him quietly. "It's better this way."

"Agreed," Monroe added. "She'll be safer with Kelly, where no one knows where she is."

"I hope so," Renard responded, "but in the meantime, we need to figure out who Adalind is working with."

"Yea, well if it's not you," Hank raised an eyebrow skeptically, "then who is it?"

"Well, I don't think its Viktor, or even my father," Renard replied, "but then again, a lot of my inside resources were depleted when I tried to get Adalind out of Vienna last time."

"Well, who hates you enough, and maybe Nick, to set up something like this with Adalind's help?" Hank asked him.

"I hope that list isn't too long," Monroe muttered, not missing the sideways glance Renard gave him.

"Unfortunately, there's more than one person on that list," he looked at them both carefully, "but there's only one I could think of that would still be willing to work with Adalind and would have the same agenda for revenge."

"So, who exactly would that be?" Monroe asked, as he and Hank regarded Renard, waiting for his reply.

Renard sighed, putting his hands in his pockets as he sat on the edge of his desk. "Well, either Adalind really is working alone, or…"

"Or?" Hank encouraged as he and Monroe looked at him impatiently.

Renard held both their gazes firmly before he spoke again.

"Or…Eric is alive."

* * *

_TBC_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:**

**You guys are the best! Thanks again for the great reviews, (and shout-out to WolfStar4 who I think has reviewed **_**every**_** chapter, you rock!), they really keep me excited about this story and wanting to write even more! That being said, I never expected to it to be this long really, and sadly, there's only one, maybe two chapters left (I may have to split the last chapter because it's getting waaaay too long). There may be room for a sequel… we shall see! **

**This chapter will be a little more Nick-centric since he's been hurt and unconscious for most of this story (I regret nothing), and get ready for some angsty bromantic Nick & Monroe feels. Also, the last couple lines were inspired by a great fanfic by Amerou I read ages ago in a different fandom, and I thought the idea fit well here too.**

**Happy reading!**

**~The FictionalMe~**

* * *

The next time Nick awoke, he was slightly more coherent. The first thing that came flooding back to his senses was the overwhelming smell of antiseptic and bleach. It filtered in through the flow of oxygen coming from the plastic nasal cannula that was currently placed in his nose and looped tightly around his ears. Coupled with the gentle beeping of various machines around him, he figured that it could only mean he was in one place…the hospital.

_Huh. Not dead then. _

He slowly pried open his heavy eyelids, blinking groggily to focus his still blurred vision. From what he could tell, he was in a stark white hospital room, but it was dark, and only the light spilling in from the hallway illuminated the room enough for him to see. He swallowed, wincing at the soreness in his throat, noticing gratefully that whatever had been choking him before was now gone. There were low voices carrying into his room from the hallway, and he could vaguely hear what sounded like Hank talking, but he couldn't make out precisely what he was saying.

Nick turned his head slightly then to see Juliette in a chair by his bed, her fingers interlaced tightly with his. She had her head propped forward onto the side of the bed next to him, nestled on the crook of her elbow, and she was fast asleep. Nick frowned in worry at the exhaustion and stress evident on her face even while she slept. He made a move to squeeze her hand, but was surprised by how much even the small movement caused a sharp pang to flare through his entire chest. He was unable to suppress a small groan that escaped involuntarily, which made Juliette shoot up instantly from her sleeping position, eyes wide and looking around frantically.

"Nick?" she asked, and her voice was so simultaneously full of hope and fear that his heart lurched a little bit. Their eyes met, and she looked as though a thousand different emotions were hitting her at once.

"…hi," he croaked, his voice dry and rough from nonuse and the tube had been shoved uncomfortably down his throat.

"Oh thank God," Juliette was suddenly hovering over him, as tears began steadily streaming down her face, even though she was blinking desperately against them. "We were, I was, so scared…that you wouldn't…"

She tried vainly to choke back a sob, and Nick instinctively pulled her closer to him, even though the motion to lift his arms took all of his strength and his chest felt as though it was on fire. None of that mattered, nothing except having Juliette safe in his arms once again.

"Juliette…it's ok," he soothed into her hair, as she clung to him tightly. "I-I'm ok…"

She nodded, pulling back to wipe at her tears. "Sorry," she mumbled sheepishly as she dried her eyes, taking a shaky breath and struggling to regain her composure.

Nick shook his head slowly, putting his arms back down and regretting the motion as he felt the pull against the stitches in his chest from the movement. "Don't…be."

"It's just," she frowned as she looked at the ceiling for a moment, before looking back at him steadily, "you really scared us, Nick. We really thought…" she paused, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry," Nick replied hoarsely, mustering the strength for his best smile and squeezing her hand. "I didn't mean…to scare you." He winced as the throbbing pain became persistently worse. He couldn't even finish a full sentence without running out of breath.

"I'm just so glad you're ok," Juliette smiled gratefully at him, reaching up to cup the side of his face gently. He turned slightly into her touch and kissed her hand.

"Would take…more than that…to keep me…away from you," he ground out between short breaths, closing his eyes as another sharp spasm gripped him. Breathing and talking were proving to be more taxing than he had anticipated.

"Nick, are you ok?" Juliette asked hurriedly, her voice full of concern. "I'll go get the doctor."

"…no," Nick replied roughly, shaking his head. "All I need right now…is you."

"I'm not going anywhere," Juliette replied softly, as she squeezed his hand again. "But seriously, how do you feel?"

He opened his eyes to meet her firm and perceptive gaze, quickly realizing that the standard 'I'm fine' phrase he typically used when he was hurt wasn't going to work this time.

"I'm…sore," he answered honestly, although it was a bit of an understatement, but he didn't think that she needed to hear _'Well honey, it feels like a million stabbing knives every time I breathe'. _She was already worried enough if her pale complexion and the dark circles under her eyes were any indication.

"Yea, I bet you are," Juliette smiled sympathetically, not looking as though she really believed his answer, but purposely letting it slide. She leaned down then to place a chaste kiss on his lips, smoothing back his mussed hair from his clammy forehead. "I love you, so much," she told him firmly, running a hand gently through his hair, "but if you ever scare me like that again…"

Nick smiled wearily at her. "I'm sorry, Juliette. I promise…I'll try not to," he paused to catch his breath, giving her a knowing look. They both knew that with his job, _both_ jobs at that, he couldn't really promise her that something like this wouldn't happen again. He squeezed her hand again softly in reassurance. "Love you too."

"Nick?" a male voice was now in the room, and Nick could hear a set of footsteps hurriedly coming closer to the bed. Juliette straightened up and moved back, and Nick could see Hank's anxious and relieved face staring down at him.

He smiled weakly at his partner. "…hey Hank."

"You're awake," Hank broke into an incredulous smile, barely hiding the relief in his voice. "It's about time. Welcome back man."

"Thanks," Nick replied hoarsely, wincing as he tried shifting slowly in the bed, still unable to get comfortable. Getting shot in the chest _really_ hurt.

"How do you feel?" Hank asked him pointedly, as Juliette kept an unrelenting death grip on his hand, as if it was the lifeline keeping him there with them.

"Hm," Nick groaned as he shifted again, sending another stabbing pain through him as he moved, "a little sore." Juliette let go of his hand and quickly adjusted some pillows behind his head, and he fell back against them with a loud sigh.

Hank scoffed. "Sure, tough guy. You were only shot in the chest, and unconscious for almost a week, but I'm sure you are just 'a little sore'."

"That long?" Nick asked incredulously, thinking of his near-death experience and _her_. Aunt Marie. It had all seemed so real…

Maybe it was.

"Yea, you're telling me," Hank sighed, shaking his head. "It's been a hell of a week." He paused, putting a hand to his chin. "What do you remember?"

"I'm not…really sure…" Nick frowned, closing his eyes and trying to recall the fuzzy events from the wedding. They flashed through his mind like moving pictures to a silent film.

The wedding. Danger. Juliette looking beautiful. Monroe and Rosalee's vows. The gun. The gun aimed at Monroe…

"Monroe," Nick's eyes flew open, and the beeping of his heart monitor kicked up a notch as he panicked, realizing he didn't know if Monroe was ok. If he was ok, he would be here right now, wouldn't he? "Monroe, did he…" He tried to sit up suddenly in the bed, groaning audibly at the gripping spasm as he moved too quickly.

"Nick, you have to calm down," Juliette reassured him, pressing him back against the pillows. He was too weak to even struggle, flopping back against the bed at her gentle touch. "Monroe is fine. So is Rosalee."

"Yea man," Hank added seriously, "just relax. Monroe is ok, thanks to you."

"…good," Nick nodded vaguely at that, trying to catch his breath. His lungs felt as though they were being ripped straight out of his chest. He lay still for a moment, waiting for the pain to subside and trying to ignore the worried looks Juliette and Hank were giving him.

He closed his eyes, trying to recall the events after he had been shot, but it was all pretty distant and jumbled. He could clearly remember the indescribable pain, and he remembered that they had all been there and talking to him, although he wasn't really sure now what they had been saying. He could distantly recall the tangible feeling of death nearby as the darkness pulled him under. Most off all, he remembered vividly what had happened after everything had gone dark, and it still felt so _real_. He opened his eyes again as the pain finally ebbed into a dull throbbing.

"Are you ok?" Juliette asked again worriedly as he met her gaze, her finger hovering on the call button. "I just called the nurse."

Nick nodded slightly, trying to hide the grimace on his face as he reassured her. "Yea. I'm fine."

"Sure you are," Hank muttered, before pulling out his phone. "I should probably call Monroe. I literally just kicked him out of here to go home and get some sleep. He looked like hell." He paused, glancing over at Nick. "He sure looks better than you, though."

Nick scoffed, smiling ruefully at him. "Gee, thanks Hank."

Hank snorted at that. "Just because you had to go be the hero and get shot doesn't mean I'm gonna go easy on you, Burkhardt. That was brave, what you did. And stupid. Damn stupid."

"Hank," Nick groaned, more from exasperation than pain this time, "don't start. Please." He did not feel up to getting one of Hank's infamous lectures today.

Hank raised an eyebrow at him as he dialed Monroe's number. "What, don't read you the riot act? You know that's standard protocol anytime you do something stupid and reckless. And this, my friend," he gestured at Nick's battered form in the bed, "definitely counts as both."

"Whatever," Nick grumbled, but he was still smiling, "worth it." He hesitated when he saw the pained expressions that Hank and Juliette both gave him, and realized how much he must have really scared them this time. His smile quickly fell.

"Look," he sighed, swallowing dryly around the soreness in his throat, "I wasn't trying to get shot. I was just trying to save Monroe."

"We know," Juliette replied softly, "but we almost lost you, Nick."

"Yea, it was bad this time," Hank added quietly. "You almost didn't come back from this."

"Well, I'm ok now," Nick protested feebly as he saw the dubious looks there were giving him. "Really."

Hank gave him another skeptical look as he stepped out of the room to call Monroe.

Juliette leaned down to kiss his forehead gently. "We're just glad to have you back."

Nick smiled tiredly back at her. "Me too."

* * *

Monroe stared numbly at the rings in the sink as they soaked in the soapy water. This was the fourth time he had washed them since the wedding, and although they were as shining and gold as ever, he could still see Nick's blood coated on them every time he looked at them.

He growled, taking the scrub brush and furiously scrubbing the sides of his ring again in desperation, tired of seeing red every time he looked at the rings, or at his hands.

It had been nearly a week, and Nick was still unconscious. He was off life support now, which was a positive sign, but he hadn't woken up again since the night Adalind had shown up at the hospital. He might never wake up.

Monroe couldn't live with that.

"Monroe," Rosalee's soothing voice reached him from the bathroom doorway, "you need to get some sleep. Why don't you take a break?"

Hank had quite literally (again) kicked him out of the hospital earlier, and it had taken that and all of Rosalee's gentle but firm urging to finally get him to come home.

He sighed, turning to look back at Rosalee. She had barely been sleeping either, and he frowned at the dark circles under her eyes.

Any time either of them closed their eyes, nightmares from the night of the wedding haunted them both. Monroe wasn't looking forward to experiencing another one any time soon.

Every time he closed his eyes, Rosalee's and Nick's deaths flashed before his eyes in vivid detail. He shuddered, looking wearily over at her.

"I'm not tired," he protested, but he was barely able to hide the shaking of hands or the fatigue in his voice.

Truthfully, he was exhausted, bone-tired even, but between the nightmares and the stress, he was lucky if he got a few hours fitfully through the night. The confrontation with Renard hadn't really helped matters any.

Renard assured them he had 'someone' on it, looking for Adalind and hunting down Eric, should he really still be alive. That someone was still in Europe, someone Renard said he could use to find Adalind, and who more importantly, was someone Adalind had trusted. But so far, no new leads had emerged. Monroe wondered if it was really possible that Eric could still be alive like Renard thought him to be, or if it was just a further manipulation by Renard to convince them of his innocence. He wasn't sure what to believe anymore. Everything was such a mess.

Nick _really_ needed to wake up.

"I know," Rosalee smiled sadly at him, moving further into the bathroom and staring at the rings in his hands, "but you can't keep doing this to yourself."

He nodded absently, dropping his ring carelessly back into the sink and sighing deeply. He just needed to feel like he was doing something, _anything_, while they waited for Nick to recover and Renard to put his so-called plan in place. He opened his mouth to reply when his cell phone started ringing in his back pocket.

He hastily dried his hands on the towel next to the sink, holding Rosalee's concerned gaze as he pulled out the phone. He paused as he read the caller ID.

"It's Hank."

"Answer it," Rosalee urged him gently as he froze. It might not be good news, and Monroe found he was almost afraid to hear what Hank had to say.

"Right," he muttered, looking at her gratefully as she wrapped an arm around his waist and held him tightly. He settled his other arm securely around her shoulders for support as he answered the phone.

"Hank," Monroe greeted anxiously, holding his breath as he waited for the detective to speak. He was completely unprepared for Hank's reply.

"He's awake."

* * *

There were voices again, but this time Nick was sure that he wasn't dying.

"He's asleep now," Juliette's soft voice drifted to his ears, "but he was awake when we called. Sorry to make you guys rush up here."

"No, no, it's ok," he could hear Rosalee reassuring her. It sounded like they were in the doorway of the room, not all the way inside. Nick blinked slowly, cracking his eyes open in the darkened room. They were all huddled just outside his open door, talking in hushed voices as to not wake him. He closed his eyes again, listening to their quiet conversation.

"Well," he could hear Monroe's anxious voice, "how'd he seem?"

"He's a little out of it, understandably," Hank replied, "and he doesn't remember everything that happened, but we filled him in on most of it…." His voice lowered further then, and Nick couldn't quite make out the rest.

"Yea, that's ok, we can just tell him the rest later," he heard Monroe agreeing with whatever Hank had said, and Nick furrowed his brows at his words. "Right now he just needs to focus on recovery."

"I know it," Hank sighed in reply. "He's in a lot of a pain, but not admitting it, as usual. Classic Nick."

Nick could hear Monroe's snort of agreement as Rosalee added, "At least he's awake. So he's past the worst of it now?"

"Yea, that's what the doctors said earlier when they checked on him," Juliette replied with a tone of relief and amazement in her voice. "They can't believe how well he's doing, all things considered."

"Yea, all things considered, they can't believe he's alive," Monroe muttered, and Nick could hear him grunt as Rosalee undoubtedly hit his arm.

"Monroe," Rosalee chastised him gently.

"I know, I know," Monroe sighed, "sorry. I'm just glad he's better. Seriously."

"All of us are," Hank added in agreement. "I'm not sure he realizes how close he came this time."

Nick paused, peering open his eyes again. He realized more than they knew about how close he had come to almost leaving them for good, but no need to tell them about that just yet.

He cleared his throat then, startling them all when he spoke, "You know, it's rude to talk about someone behind their back."

All four of them wheeled around to stare wide-eyed back at him, before simultaneously moving to his bedside.

"Sorry," Juliette smiled, as she came over to squeeze his hand gently. "We didn't mean to wake you."

"Yea, wouldn't want to interrupt your beauty sleep," Hank raised an eyebrow at him, unable to to suppress a grin. "Lord knows you need plenty of that."

"Hey, injured person here," Nick protested, but he was grinning now too. "You're supposed to go easy on me."

"Yes, but we can also hover annoyingly around you until we're satisfied you're ok," Rosalee added from his other side, smiling at him fondly. "It's so good to see you awake, Nick."

"Thanks," he glanced gratefully up at her. "And I'm glad you and Monroe are ok."

"Me too," Rosalee reached out to squeeze his other hand firmly, "and I don't know what to say, Nick, just..." she stopped and leaned down to a place a gentle kiss on his cheek, "thank you. And don't do this again, ok?"

He smiled tiredly back at her, giving her a barely imperceptible nob, then frowned when he realized he couldn't see Monroe. He looked past Rosalee to see Monroe still standing uncomfortably in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets and looking at everything in the room except for at him.

Rosalee glanced back and her face fell when she saw Monroe still hanging back by the door. She gestured at him to come closer to the bed, but Monroe gave her the slightest shake of his head, hunching his shoulders rigidly.

She turned to Hank and Juliette, trying to draw their attention to the growing tension in the room. "I don't know about you guys, but I could really go for some coffee. Want to come with me downstairs to the cafeteria?"

"Ugh, the cafeteria coffee here is awful," Hank started, grunting when Juliette quickly elbowed him in the side. He paused, rubbing his side as he looked at her in confusion. "What..."

"That sounds great, Rosalee," Juliette said pointedly, giving Hank another look, and he quickly caught on.

"Oh, right. Did I saw awful? I meant awesome," Hank quickly backtracked. "Let's go get some."

"Let's," Rosalee motioned for them to follow her, "we'll be right back." With that they left, leaving Nick and Monroe alone together in the room.

Nick had seen right through their whole ploy, but he was more concerned as to why Monroe seemed to be avoiding him, still hanging back by the door and shifting his weight back and forth from foot to foot. A heavy silence fell between them, and Nick sighed, deciding he had better start first before Monroe became a permanent doorway fixture.

"Hey," he greeted quietly, assessing him with watchful eyes and trying to gauge his mood. When Monroe finally looked up at him, steadily holding his gaze, Nick frowned at the clearly pained and sorrowful look reflecting back at him. He hadn't been expecting Monroe to react this way. This was hardly the first (nor would it be the last) time he'd been hurt and in the hospital.

"Hey," Monroe replied, his voice quiet and hoarse, his hands still shoved stiffly in his pockets. He made no move to come any closer, looking absently around the room. An awkward silence stretched between then once again.

"Wow, do I look that bad?" Nick tried again, hoping to encourage Monroe, but his attempt at levity fell flat.

Monroe shook his head slightly at his words. "Dude, have you seen yourself?" he replied hollowly, without even the barest hint of a smile.

"No, but from the looks you've all been giving me, I have a pretty good idea," Nick smiled wanly at him as Monroe finally shuffled closer, hesitantly coming to a stop by his bed. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Nick's battered form, his brow furrowing deeply.

"I'd ask how you're feeling, but that seems like a stupid question at this point."

Nick sighed, his face falling as he looked solemnly back up at Monroe. "Not that anyone believes me, but I'm better. Better than I was."

Monroe's face quickly darkened, and he leaned down closer to Nick, his eyes flashing red for a moment. "What, better than when you were bleeding out in front of us in the middle of the church and we were completely helpless to do anything but watch you die?" he growled, his voice full of anger and a bunch of other emotions Nick couldn't quite put his finger on.

He paused uncertainly, completely taken aback at Monroe's reaction. He knew Monroe was upset, worried even, but he'd never seen him quite like this. "Look, Monroe, I'm sorry..."

"Damn right you're sorry!" Monroe bit back, clenching his fists. He took a step away from the bed and began pacing around the room, his whole body tense and coiled tightly like a spring.

"What?" Nick frowned as he watched Monroe pace uneasily in the small space. "What are you..."

"Of all the stupid things you could do, Nick," Monroe cut him off as he turned restless circles around the room again, gesturing wildly with his hands, "jumping in front of a gun? For me? Really?"

"Wait a second, Monroe," Nick furrowed his brows in confusion at his words, "are you mad at me for pushing you out of the way?"

Monroe froze in his tracks, wheeling around to give him a deadly stare from the foot of the bed. "Damn it Nick, that's so not even the point here and you know it!"

Nick shook his head, closing his eyes as he sucked in a deep breath to calm his rapidly fraying nerves, sending shooting pains through his chest. He looked back at Monroe, feeling his own anger rise in response. He was exhausted and hurting and had no idea why Monroe was so angry with him. "All I know is that I saw someone aim a gun at you, and I reacted."

"Yea, well that little stunt almost got you killed," Monroe bit out, resuming his frantic pacing. It was making Nick dizzy just to watch him, and he blinked rapidly to try and refocus his vision as he watched Monroe move around the room.

"Well, I'm sorry," he tried again, trying to keep his voice calm, "but I wasn't about to let you get shot."

"So you got shot instead!" Monroe snapped, glaring at him as he paused again in the far corner of the room. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"That I didn't want you to die!" Nick shot back defensively, unable to curb his own frustration any longer. He instantly regretted the decision the raise his voice as the throbbing increased, gripping his lungs unforgivably, but he refused to back down now.

"And you almost did!" Monroe was furious now, his whole body shaking as he stopped to glower angrily back at Nick. "Tell me, how is that any better?"

Nick opened his mouth to respond but was unable to suppress a groan as the pain suddenly increased even further, and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, sucking in air through clenched teeth as he waited for it to subside.

_Great, this really isn't helping my case right now._

"Alright, alright, just calm down," Monroe was suddenly at his side again, the anger slowly slipping out of his voice. Nick nodded vaguely, opening his eyes again after a moment to see Monroe looking worriedly down at him, all traces of red now gone from his eyes and his expression softening.

Monroe sighed deeply, running his hands roughly over his face. He composed himself, looking back at Nick with a look of absolute sorrow and guilt.

"Dude, someone was trying to kill me, and you decided to get in the way. You shouldn't even be the one in this bed right now." He paused, shaking his head sadly. His voice was hollow and quiet when he finally spoke again. "Jesus, Nick, you almost died. For a while, I really thought you were going to. We all did."

Nick blinked up at him, sighing as he finally realized what this was really about. "I know, Monroe. I'm sorry about that, I really am." He stopped to catch his breath as he regarded him seriously. "But I'm not sorry for saving your life."

Monroe just shook his head at him, and he looked as though the guilt was eating him alive. "Just so you know, I _am_ grateful for what you did for me. But," he paused, reaching out hesitantly to place a hand on his shoulder, "in _no_ way did I want you to sacrifice yourself for me. This should have happened to me, not you."

Nick shook his head. "No, Monroe. It shouldn't have happened at all. But this isn't your fault. You didn't do to this to me," he gestured weakly at himself with one hand. "If anything, this whole thing is my fault. I doubt anyone would even be trying to kill you if you weren't friends with me in the first place."

"Now, stop right there," Monroe replied quickly, "I've told you before, I'm not a status quo kind of guy, and I help you out and I'm friends with you because I _want_ to," he sighed, squeezing his shoulder, "so don't you dare try to take the blame for this."

Nick nodded slowly at him. "Ok. But either can you."

"Alright," Monroe agreed reluctantly, looking back at him, "but you took a bullet for me, man. Do you even know what that means?"

"Guess I don't owe you that gift basket anymore?" Nick replied, his lips twitching up slightly at the corners as he waited for Monroe's reaction.

Monroe narrowed his eyes at him, but there was no heat in his voice when he spoke. "I guess not." He paused, looking at Nick gravely. "But I do owe you my life."

Nick just shook his head at him. "We're friends, Monroe. Don't tell me that you wouldn't have done the same for me."

Monroe smiled grimly, nodding his head in agreement. "Not a question. But I really wish it didn't have to come to this."

"Me either," Nick sighed, leaning his head back against the pillows tiredly and closing his eyes. "But, just for the record, I wasn't trying to get shot." He peered one eye back open at Monroe. "I was just trying to make sure that you didn't."

"I know," Monroe replied gratefully, gently squeezing his shoulder again, "thank you." He smirked then, adding, "you and your hero complex. You gotta do something about that. Stubborn Grimm."

"I'll work on it," Nick mumbled in response, smiling back as he let his eyes drift shut.

"You know, I have to say, I didn't think having you be my best man would be such a dangerous job, besides, you know, the whole Grimm-at-a-Wesen-wedding thing." Monroe stopped, clearing his throat hesitantly. "And I don't know if you still want it, but the job is still open."

Nick opened his eyes again at that, meeting Monroe's hesitant gaze. "If you're asking me if I still want to be your best man, than my answer's the same. I'd be honored to."

Monroe finally broke into a real smile. "Are you sure? Apparently it's a risky gig."

"Definitely," Nick smiled ruefully, "but can I suggest that you guys pick a different venue this time?"

Monroe snorted at that. "We already have."

"So you guys already set another date?" Nick raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Not yet, but we're going to," Monroe replied. "I don't want this to be ruined because some homicidal maniacs thought they could invite themselves to our wedding. We want to reschedule it as soon as possible." He looked knowingly at Nick. "Well, as soon as my best man is actually well enough to stand up there with me."

Nick smiled determinedly. "I'll be fine in a few weeks."

Monroe chuckled at him. "Maybe by your definition of 'fine', but not by the rest of ours."

Nick groaned at that. "You guys aren't going to let me do anything, are you?"

"Not a chance, man," Monroe grinned as he patted his shoulder reassuringly. "I doubt you'll even be allowed to lift a paper clip."

"Great," Nick muttered, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation.

Monroe cleared his throat, looking at him seriously again. "I'm just really glad you're ok."

"You too," Nick replied earnestly, "and Rosalee. Juliette and Hank told me what happened. Sorry I couldn't be there to help."

"Don't be," Monroe replied quickly, "you've already done enough."

Nick nodded at him, before finally asking, "so, are we good?"

"Yea man, sorry, I may have overreacted a little," Monroe apologized, "but yea, we're good. Just no more heroics, ok?"

"Deal," Nick replied, but they both knew that was a promise he couldn't keep.

Nick paused then, frowning as another thought suddenly dawned on him. He really hated how sluggish the pain medication made him, silently berating himself for not thinking to ask before now, especially with what he had overheard Hank and Monroe discussing earlier.

"Wait, did you guys find out anymore yet on who hired those two to kill you?" he asked, and he didn't miss Monroe's hesitation as he answered.

"Uh, no, not really," he responded, studiously avoiding Nick's intense gaze. "I mean, we're making progress, but don't worry about that right now. Just focus on getting better. We've got it."

"Monroe," Nick regarded him critically, "what aren't you telling me?"

Before Monroe had a chance to respond, Hank, Juliette, and Rosalee returned to the room, and Nick didn't miss Monroe's momentary look of relief of not having to answer him. Whatever it was, he knew he'd have to find out soon, but right now he was too tired between the pain and the medication to pursue it further.

"Everything ok in here?" Rosalee asked as she laid a quick peck on Monroe's cheek. Juliette moved over to stand at Nick's bedside as Hank stopped at the foot of the bed.

"Everything's good," Monroe smiled genuinely at her, as he swung an arm over her shoulder and pulled her against him.

"Yea, it's good," Nick smiled up at them, raising his eyebrows knowingly. "How was the coffee?"

"The coffee?" Hank responded. "It was, uh, great. It was great."

"You're terrible at this," Juliette chuckled, making them all laugh.

"Hey," Hank replied indignantly, "I may be able to pretend a lot of things, but liking hospital coffee isn't one of them." He shuddered in exaggeration. "Yuck."

Juliette leaned down to place a gentle kiss on Nick's lips. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but how are you feeling?"

Nick didn't miss the four expectant gazes trained on him, waiting for his response. He sighed, looking back up at them. "I'm not going to break, you guys. I'm ok."

"Sorry, you're not getting off that easy," Rosalee admonished him gently. "It's ok to admit if you're hurting, Nick. You've been through a lot."

"We all have," Hank sighed, putting a hand to his chin thoughtfully. "What a week."

"I'm sorry for what I put you through," Nick replied quietly, looking at all of them, "but I can't regret what I did. You know I will always do whatever I can to protect you guys."

"How about letting us protect you for a change?" Juliette replied softly, squeezing his hand firmly. "Just remember Nick, as much as you love us, we love you too."

Nick blinked furiously at the sudden wetness behind his eyes, closing them to hide the surge of emotions that unexpectedly overwhelmed him. After a moment, he opened them again, grateful to see the four most important people in his life looking down at him, concern and love evident on their faces. This alone was worth fighting for. This was worth coming back for.

"Exactly. So how about this time, you take it easy and let us help you?" Hank added firmly. "And I do mean easy, Nick. You cut it way too close this time."

"Yea man," Monroe added with a knowing look, "You may not remember everything, but it was pretty tense back there at the church. We thought we lost you there, for a minute."

Nick closed his eyes, thinking of what he had heard and seen, and how close he had almost come to leaving them forever. They had no idea how right they were. He sighed deeply before replying.

"For a minute there, you did."

He opened his eyes again to meet four bewildered faces peering down at him, waiting anxiously for an explanation. Nick squeezed Juliette's fingers tightly again before he spoke.

"Aunt Marie says hi."

* * *

_TBC_


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:**

**Well, since you guys are all so **_**fantastic**_** and keep leaving these amazing reviews and keep asking for more…you're getting it! I've decided to add one more chapter after this one, well an epilogue really, to properly tie up some plot points and give this story the ending that it (and you!) deserve. I had originally intended to have this story done before the season finale (oh, that's tonight!), but then it turned into the beast it is now and that just wasn't possible. **

**Anyways, enjoy this chapter full of hurt!Nick and worried!Gang and lots of friendship feels. We might need this after tonight's finale…I'm already dreading what they're going to do to sink my ship S.S. Nickette (sigh). Guess we'll find out how close (or not even) my idea about the wedding was to canon…enjoy!**

**~TheFictionalMe!~**

* * *

"Hey, looks like Hank just got here too," Rosalee told Monroe from the passenger's seat of the bug as they pulled into the driveway at Nick and Juliette's house. They parked next to Hank's police cruiser and quickly got out, waving at the detective.

"Hey guys," Hank greeted them, as they all started walking up the sidewalk towards the front door.

"I hope you like microbrews," Monroe held up the case of beer he was carrying, as Rosalee delicately balanced a tray of homemade spinach and artichoke dip in her hands. "It's definitely better than that cheap stuff Nick drinks."

"Well, in that case, I'm sure I'll love it," Hank grinned, carrying a bag of chips to go with Rosalee's dip. They climbed the stairs and stopped together on the front porch, as Monroe knocked lightly on the door.

"Ah, coming! Just a minute!" they heard Juliette call out from inside the house. A moment later, the door swung open. "Hey guys," she welcomed as she stood back to let them in, immediately plastering a tired smile on her face.

"Hey," Rosalee replied warmly, stepping through the open door to give Juliette a hug, Monroe and Hank following suit.

Juliette ushered them in and offered to take their coats. Hank shook his head, stepping forwards. "I've got these." He quickly gathered the coats and hung them on the coat rack in the corner by the door.

"Thanks," she nodded at him in thanks, pushing a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes as she surveyed her friends. "Did you guys all ride together?"

"Nah, just good timing," Monroe smiled at her, before his smile slowly fell. "So how's...everything going?"

Juliette sighed then, looking slightly flustered. "Ok. Just glad to be home."

"Well," Rosalee interrupted, not wanting the seriousness of the moment to ruin their evening, "Where should I put these?" She motioned to the dip in her hands and the beer Monroe had brought.

"I told you guys not to do that," Juliette gently scolded, a small smile returning to her face, "But on the table in the dining room is fine." She gestured to the room behind them.

"I never was a good listener," Rosalee replied lightly before she and Hank moved to distribute the chips and dips on the table and put the beer in the fridge.

Monroe stayed behind, turning back to Juliette with a smirk. "I may be the cook most of the time, but I know better than to mess with her hors d'oeuvres."

Juliette smiled up at her friend, this time a more genuine one gracing her lips. "Wasn't that the biggest thing you guys couldn't agree on for the wedding?"

"Yea, actually it was," Monroe nodded, shaking his head with laugh. "But I think we've finally come to an understanding on that front."

"That's good," Juliette chuckled at him, "I can't wait to try it." She frowned then, leaning in closer to Monroe and lowering her voice. "How are you guys doing? I can't imagine that replanning the wedding, after what happened…" she paused to clear her throat, "is easy."

"It's not," Monroe nodded in agreement, dropping his gaze. "But we're fine. She's fine. I think," he sighed, shaking his head. "We aren't going to let what happened stop us from getting married and starting the rest of our lives together."

He looked back up at Juliette. "But don't worry about us, we'll be ok. Right now, it's Nick that I'm worried about it."

"So, how is Nick?" Hank interrupted cautiously as he and Rosalee returned from putting out the appetizers on the table. Monroe and Juliette stepped apart as they turned to face them.

Juliette sighed again. "He's ok, I think. He's been sleeping since we got home this morning."

"Yea, I'm still questioning the doctor's judgment on that one," Hank shook his head. "But Nick can certainly be persistent."

"And he was determined not to spend another night in the hospital," Juliette mused, looking back at Hank knowingly. "After he broke out the story of how much he hated hospitals because of his parents dying when he was a kid, they really didn't have a choice but to release him."

Monroe snorted as they all gathered around in living room. "Leave it to the Grimm to resort to the most depressing and heartbreaking story in order to get what he wants."

Juliette smiled ruefully at that. "As much as I think he should probably still be there…I'm really glad to have him home."

"So are we," Rosalee looked at her sympathetically. "Is he in a lot of pain?"

Juliette ran a hand haphazardly through her hair. "Probably…but he won't really admit it. I basically have to force feed him any pain medication."

"Sounds like Nick," Hank grunted, shaking his head. "He has to know that we're on to him by now."

"I think he's just trying to keep us from worrying about him," Monroe added, "even if that isn't going to work. He's always worried about everyone else." He swallowed thickly as he looked at all of them. "If that wasn't who he was, he wouldn't be in the situation he's in right now."

They all silently agreed, thinking of the events of the past few weeks and how close they had come to losing Nick forever. It was a reality check, a reminder of the crazy and impossible world that they lived in, and a harsh warning that they weren't always as safe and as careful as they had once believed.

Monroe paused then, hesitantly sniffing the air, before turning to Juliette. "Not to alarm you, but I think your soufflé is burning."

It was at that exact moment that every timer in the kitchen started going off. "Oh no!" Juliette cried, bolting to the kitchen with the rest hot on her heels as she frantically ran towards the oven.

A small amount of smoke was beginning to billow out from the oven, as she hastily pulled open the door, fanning desperately with her apron. But it was no use. The soufflé was already burnt to a crisp. She pulled it out and dumped it dejectedly on to the stove top. The four friends stood there, staring forlornly at what would have been their dinner.

Juliette's shoulders slumped forwards in defeat as she looked sadly at the soufflé. The last few weeks had been pure torture, with what had happened at the wedding and Nick being in critical condition at the hospital, and all she had wanted was to give them something good amongst all of the bad that had happened.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, turning back to her friends. "Looks like I've ruined dinner."

"No, no, I'm sure it will be fine," Monroe tried to reassure her, stepping closer to inspect the burnt soufflé, unable to stop the wrinkling of his nose as the fumes hit him. "It's just a little crispy on top."

"Yea, I'm sure it's great," Hank added hastily, stepping next to Monroe. "Besides, I prefer my food a little extra done anyways."

Before Rosalee could chime in her reassurances, the smoke detector in the kitchen went off shrilly, effectively making them all cover their ears. Monroe was positive that his sensitive ear drums were going to explode.

"I've got it!"Hank yelled above the din, hastily pulling over a stool and reaching up to hit the button. They all breathed out a sigh of relief as the piercing noise finally stopped.

"Great," Juliette took off her apron and threw it next to the burnt soufflé in frustration. "Not only have I ruined dinner, but now I probably woke up Nick." She made a move towards the back stairs, but Rosalee gently grabbed her arm.

"Let me check on him," she offered, and Juliette smiled gratefully, the lines of exhaustion evident around her eyes.

"Thanks," she replied genuinely, and Rosalee nodded, heading for the stairs.

Juliette turned back to Monroe and Hank, smiling sadly. "Sorry about dinner," she said, her voice full of defeat.

"Hey, no worries," Hank reassured her. "Even if it isn't edible, I'm sure we can find a good pizza place."

"Plus, we still have the appetizer," Monroe chimed in helpfully, "and lots of beer, so it isn't a total loss."

Juliette smiled slightly at them, turning with a sigh to look back at their ruined dinner, which was still smoking slightly at the edges. "I know, I know, I just…really wanted to make this a special dinner, you know? Because of everything…" She paused, turning back to them with tears now brimming in her eyes.

"I keep reminding myself every day that he's ok, that he's getting better, but I just can't stop thinking…" she said quietly, closing her eyes tightly to keep the tears at bay. "We almost lost him this time." She opened her eyes again to regard Hank and Monroe carefully. Both of them wore equally solemn expressions at her words.

Hank stepped forwards, putting a hand on her shoulder, the same worry and pain reflected in his own eyes. "Yea. Yea we did." He pulled her into a fierce hug then, which Juliette gratefully accepted.

"But we didn't," Monroe added quietly, and Juliette pulled away from Hank to look at him. "He's still here."

"I know," Juliette whispered, stepping into Monroe's outstretched arms as well, the familiar flannel tickling her face as he pressed her close to his chest. "I know. Sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," Monroe said quietly, pulling her even tighter against him as if he could make this better for her, for all of them. "If I could trade places with him, I would, in a heartbeat."

"No Monroe," Juliette voice was muffled but firm in the flannel, "nobody wants that. I'm just so glad you're both ok. That we _all_ are."

"Me too," Monroe sighed deeply in reply, "me too."

* * *

Nick groggily opened his eyes, blinking as his vision slowly came into focus, and he frowned as he took in his surroundings and couldn't remember for a minute where he was.

Home. He was finally home.

As his disorientation cleared, he looked around his bedroom, trying to figure out what had woken him up, and then he could hear the distant beeping of what sounded like the smoke detector going off downstairs.

He moved quickly to sit up in bed, instantly regretting the movement at the sharp agony that it caused, literally taking his breath away. He fell back against the pillows, gritting his teeth and cursing silently at himself, wondering how he could have possibly forgotten that.

_ Right. Gunshot wound. _

"Nick?" he heard a gentle voice ask him then, as someone came cautiously into the bedroom. He opened his eyes to see Rosalee hovering hesitantly by the side of his bed, looking down at him with concern.

"…hey Rosalee," he forced a pained smile at her, and she raised an eyebrow skeptically at him.

"Do you need more pain medication?" she asked him, already holding out the prescription bottle in one hand and a glass of water in the other. "You look like you could use some."

Nick opened his mouth to protest as he glanced up at her, but quickly closed it at the unyielding look she gave him. He sighed, knowing he wasn't going to win this particular argument.

"Yea. Thanks."

Rosalee looked almost surprised that he agreed so readily, and then smiled pleasantly, setting the bottle and glass on the nightstand. "Here, let me help you sit up."

Sitting up turned out to be its own special form of torture, but Rosalee expertly supported his back with one hand and propped up the pillows behind him with the other, before settling him back against them.

"Thanks," he nodded gratefully, pausing to catch his breath as the pain the movement caused gradually subsided.

"Here, take these," Rosalee said firmly, as she sat down on the edge of the bed next to him, holding out two pills in an outstretched hand and the glass with the other.

Nick smiled ruefully at her. "Guess I don't really get a choice in this, do I?"

"None," Rosalee smirked at him, motioning again at the pills in her open hand.

Nick sighed, eyeing the pain pills dubiously, before reaching out to reluctantly take them. He didn't miss the way Rosalee carefully studied him as he put the pills in his mouth, washing them down with the water.

He swallowed, and then jokingly opened his mouth. "See? They're gone."

"Good boy," Rosalee admonished fondly, reaching out to pat his arm. "I don't know why you have to be so stubborn about this. They will help with the pain, and there's no shame in that. You were _shot_, Nick. You're allowed some pain meds."

"I know that, Rosalee, but," he hesitated, looking seriously back at her, "I don't like the way they make me feel. I can't think clearly when I take them."

Rosalee furrowed her brow at his words. "That's ok. All you need to do is rest right now anyways."

Nick slowly shook his head in disagreement, wincing as he shifted against the pillows again. "No, that's just it. I can't rest, not until we know who set up the hit on Monroe and hired those two gunmen. He's still in danger until we know who's behind this. We all are."

Rosalee paused, carefully searching for the words before replying, and Nick didn't miss her trepidation. "You don't need to worry about that right now. You just need to get better."

"How can I not worry?" Nick protested. "I can't just lie here and do nothing, Rosalee. Not until this is over."

Rosalee reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it firmly as she spoke. "This was almost over before it began. I don't think I need to remind you of how close you came this time." She smiled sadly at him. "For once, let us take care of it, Nick."

Nick sighed in defeat, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the pillows. "I'm sorry, I just…I can't just sit here knowing that someone is still after Monroe." He opened his eyes to look back at her. "If we don't find out who did this, and stop them, then what I did for Monroe will all be for nothing anyways."

Rosalee frowned, a pained expression on her face. "And if you make yourself worse by pushing yourself and doing things that you're not ready for, you're just going to make us worry even more. You have to take it easy."

"Yea," Nick nodded reluctantly in agreement, "I know." He avoided her serious gaze and began studiously examining the design on the comforter on the bed as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

A heavy silence fell between them, until Nick couldn't stand it anymore. Things had been way too serious lately, a dark cloud hanging over all of them, and he was ready for it to change.

"You know," he smiled wryly as he glanced back over at her, breaking the tension, "getting shot _really_ sucks."

A small smile spread across Rosalee's face at his words, and she couldn't suppress an understanding chuckle at that. "I imagine it does. Are the meds helping?"

Nick looked up at the ceiling for a moment, silently assessing his pain level. Surprisingly, the pain had faded to a dull throb, and it no longer felt like there was a vice squeezing unforgivably around his lungs with every breath. "I think so."

"Good," Rosalee replied. "I'll have to let Juliette know I actually got you to take them."

"You're persuasive," Nick grinned at her. "I didn't stand a chance."

Rosalee shrugged, laughing at him. "It's a talent. I mean, who else could convince Monroe to take down all those gaudy Christmas decorations?"

Nick laughed at that, pleasantly surprised that the movement didn't cause his chest to feel as though it was being ripped open for once.

Maybe the pain meds really did work.

"I'm glad you're here," he smiled warmly, squeezing her hand in return. "Is everyone else here too?"

"Yea, Hank and Monroe are downstairs with Juliette," Rosalee nodded. "Sorry, we didn't want to wake you, but there was a little fiasco in the kitchen. Everything's fine now."

"Yea, so I heard," Nick replied. "But that's ok, I should be getting up anyways. All I do lately is sleep."

"Well, you've earned it," Rosalee smiled fondly at him. "I think we all have."

Nick's smile fell at that as he thought about the others. "How's Monroe?" he asked her, carefully searching her face. He was afraid that Monroe still blamed himself for what had happened, even though he kept reassuring him that it wasn't his fault.

Rosalee frowned at that. "He's handling things better. Better then when we thought we were going to lose you."

Nick nodded slowly at her words before responding. "I don't want him to keep blaming himself for this. It wasn't his fault."

"You know that, and I know that," Rosalee sighed, running a hand through her hair, "but I think deep down, Monroe is still feeling guilty. I can't get him to talk to me about it anymore. I think he's trying to distract me with replanning the wedding. He feels like he is the reason our wedding was ruined, too."

"I need to talk to him," Nick responded, barely suppressing a grimace as he moved to get out of the bed.

"Whoa now, where do you think you're going?" Rosalee chided him, gently stopping him from getting out of the bed. "You need to rest, remember?"

"Rosalee," Nick raised his eyebrows at her, "I promise I'll take it easy, but I'm not staying in this bed any longer."

"Nick," Rosalee's tone changed, and she looked at him seriously. "Stay in bed. Otherwise, you'll never hear the end of it if you push yourself too far. Just stay here, and I'll send Monroe up to talk to you in a little bit, ok?"

"Ok," Nick grudgingly agreed, sinking back against the pillows. Rosalee patted his shoulder gently, before moving off the bed to head back downstairs. Nick reached out to catch her arm before she could move away.

"Hey, Rosalee," he started, and she turned to look back at him, "thanks. For everything."

Rosalee smiled genuinely at him. "Of course, Nick. Now get some rest."

"Yes ma'am," he smirked up at her, closing his eyes and nestling back against the pillows.

As soon as he was sure she was out of the room, he slowly peeled the covers back and made his way painstakingly out of the bed.

* * *

"I can never repay Nick for saving my life," Monroe told Juliette as she pulled back from his embrace, "but I can promise you I'll always do my best to have his back, just like he always has mine."

Juliette nodded, letting out a shaky breath as she looked at him and Hank. "I know you do, that you both do, I don't doubt that. It's just that he's always trying to save everyone else…and this time it almost got him killed."

Hank sighed, placing his hands on his hips. "Unfortunately, that's a part of the job description. _Both_ jobs, at that. And it's a part of who Nick is."

"Yes," Juliette replied, sighing deeply, "and I love him for it. I just wish that he'd look out for himself for a change."

"That's what we're here for," Monroe motioned at the three of them, "and Rosalee. To take care of Nick, when he won't do it himself."

Juliette smiled slightly at that. "Yea, you're right. We'll just have to do a better job next time."

"A better job of what?" Rosalee asked as she rejoined them in the kitchen, pausing to frown at the burnt soufflé.

"Oh, just keeping Nick from getting in his own way," Monroe smiled knowingly, and Rosalee chuckled, coming to wrap her arms gently around him.

"And you," she added, looking up at him, and then over at Hank, "we have to keep you two from charging in blindly after him."

Monroe looked slightly chagrined, holding his hands up in mock protest. "Hey now, if we don't do it, who will?"

Hank snorted at that. "He's got a point."

Juliette smiled at them, before turning back to Rosalee. "How is he?"

"He woke up for a few minutes, and I actually got him to take some more painkillers," Rosalee replied, "but I think he might be hurting badly enough that he'll admit to needing them right now."

"Yea, he's due for another dose," Juliette glanced at her watch. "Which means it's time for dinner…I'm sorry guys."

"So pizza it is!" Hank chuckled, reaching in his pocket for his phone. "And I know just the place. What does everybody want for toppings?"

They all gathered in the kitchen, writing down their orders and handing them to Hank, and they didn't notice the extra person until a hoarse voice reached them from the stairway.

"…extra cheese on mine."

They all wheeled around to see Nick in the middle of the back staircase, leaning against the wall as if it was the only thing holding him up.

* * *

"Hey," Juliette said, rushing over to his side but Hank beat her there. "What are you doing up?"

Nick shrugged slightly, trying to suppress a groan but unable as Hank carefully helped him down to the next step. "I wanted to…see everyone." He paused to take a shaky breath before attempting the next step, turning to Hank. "I got it."

"Oh no you don't," Hank refused to relinquish the strong grip on his arm as he guided him down to the next step. "Can you just accept a little help every once in a while?"

Nick gave him a weak smile, trying to hide the grimace of pain that crossed his face as he turned back to the group. He didn't miss Rosalee frowning disapprovingly at him.

"I thought we agreed you shouldn't be getting up."

Nick managed to look slightly ashamed at her words. "Sorry Rosalee."

"Should you even be out of bed?" Monroe chided him from the bottom of the stairway as Hank slowly helped him make it the rest of the way down. Rosalee and Juliette stood behind Monroe, assessing his measured movements with watchful eyes.

Nick paused for a second at the bottom of the stairs, catching his breath, before looking back up at Monroe. "I'm ok, Monroe."

Monroe scoffed at him. "Seriously man, you aren't convincing anyone here. Need I remind you that you _just_ got out of the hospital this morning?"

It was deathly quiet for a moment, and the audible sound of Nick wheezing as he leaned on Hank for support was just another reminder of how close he had come.

Rosalee finally interrupted the uncomfortable silence. "Why don't we go into the living room so that Nick is more comfortable?"

"That's a great idea," Juliette agreed, coming to support Nick's other side as she and Hank guided him slowly into the living room.

"Guys, I'm fine," Nick protested weakly as they steered him towards the couch. He really hated feeling so helpless.

Hank scoffed, shaking his head. "We've been over this, Nick. You got shot, and it's still not enough for you to actually admit you hurt a little?"

Nick smiled wanly over at him as they stopped in front of the couch. "Fine. I hurt a little."

"Wow, admitting it? That's a first," Monroe grumbled under his breath from where he and Rosalee were following protectively behind them.

Hank and Juliette lowered him gently onto the couch, and Nick was barely able to suppress another groan of pain as he settled against the cushions, the strain of the movements pulling at the stitches in his wound. He sat, eyes clenched shut, trying to slow his breathing for several moments as the pain radiated from his chest and spread until it was difficult to pull air into his lungs. When he finally opened his eyes, four pairs of eyes were looking expectantly down at him, concern etched deeply into their expressions.

Nick let out a long sigh. "Really, I'm fine. You can stop looking at me like that."

Truthfully, he did feel worlds better since that first day he had woken up in the hospital, but he was also moving around more at home and better able to refuse the pain medication. However, at the moment, he was immensely grateful that Rosalee had made him take them, if his worsening wheeze and shortness of breath was any indication of the shape he was in.

Juliette sat down next to him on the couch, gently kissing his cheek. "You sure make it hard not to worry about you."

He smiled ruefully back at her. "You don't have to worry, I'm on the mend." He turned to look back up at Rosalee, Monroe, and Hank as they hovered anxiously above him by the couch. "Anyways, I'm just glad you guys are all here."

"Us too," Hank replied. "Welcome home."

"It's good to see you out of the hospital," Monroe added with a tone of cynicism, "although I'm not entirely convinced that you shouldn't still be there right now."

Nick held his gaze steadily as he responded. "If you guys are going to confine me to bed rest, at least it should be my own bed. Besides, how can I be any help in finding out who put the hit out on you if I'm stuck in the hospital?"

All of them paused, before exchanging a hesitant look between the four of them. Nick furrowed his brows in confusion as no one said anything further, still exchanging anxious glances, and then Nick narrowed his eyes in realization.

"Ok," he asked suspiciously as he studied them all closely, "what's going on here?"

"Oh, you mean us?" Monroe said dumbly, avoiding direct eye contact and looking helplessly to the others.

"What do you mean?" Hank replied a little too innocently.

"No, don't. Don't keep things from me," Nick told them firmly. "Something's going on, and I want to know what it is."

"Well, I know we all agreed to wait until he was a little better, but maybe we should just tell him now," Monroe sighed, looking back down at Nick.

"Tell me what?" Nick asked, looking at them all with concern. "What's going on?"

"Yea, I think we should," Juliette added, looking back up at them from her position on the couch next to Nick. "He can handle it."

"We were going to anyways," Rosalee shrugged in agreement, "so why not now?"

"Yea, why not," Hank replied, looking slightly defeated. "He should know."

"Know what? What should I know?" Nick was growing increasingly frustrated and worried with all the secrecy. "What is it?"

"Nick," Juliette squeezed his knee in reassurance, "we know who hired the hit men at the wedding."

Nick's eyes widened at her words, and he looked back at all of them in surprise. "Ok, then who? Who was it?"

"Well, you're never going to believe this," Monroe laughed uncomfortably, "but we thought it was Captain Renard at first."

Nick stopped, completely dumbfounded at his words. "I'm sorry, what? Are you serious? The Captain?"

"Yea, seemed ridiculous to us too," Hank chuckled humorously, "but after Adalind showed up…"

"Adalind is back?" Nick interrupted, blinking in confusion. "And she's alive? And in Portland?"

"Unfortunately," Juliette muttered, as Rosalee scoffed in agreement.

"Yea, it was a surprise for us too," Monroe replied, "especially when she showed up at the hospital and basically told us that she helped set up the hit."

"Wait, just wait a second," Nick shook his head, trying to wrap his fuzzy mind (damn pain meds) around this information, "she came to you and _admitted_ that she helped set up the hit?"

"More or less," Rosalee nodded in confirmation.

Nick furrowed his brows, trying to process everything. "Ok, so Adalind is back, and she helped to set up the hit…what does the Captain have to do with all this?"

"That is a great question," Monroe replied a little too enthusiastically, "and it deserves a great answer."

Nick looked to Hank, who seemed to be hesitating with his reply. "Well, Adalind convinced us that she and the Captain were working together, because of their child."

"So does she know that my mom has the baby?" Nick asked quickly, looking at them with concern.

"No, no, she thinks that the Resistance has the baby," Rosalee reassured him.

"But she found out that Viktor doesn't," Monroe added, "and she wasn't too happy about that. That's why she told us that she and Captain Renard wanted revenge on us for taking their kid away, and that she was able to convince him to hire the hit men. "

"And you believed her?" Nick was incredulous as he looked back at his friends.

"My thoughts exactly," Juliette murmured under her breath, squeezing Nick's knee again.

"I know, seems crazy," Monroe answered, "but we had our reasons."

"Yea. Among other things, the data we got back from the perp's phone had multiple contacts with the Captain's number," Hank replied, letting out a long sigh. "So that evidence led us to think that maybe the Captain really was involved in this mess."

"Ok," Nick replied slowly, shaking his head as he looked up at them, "so how do you know he isn't involved then? Even though that doesn't make any sense. As far as I know, he wants me on his side."

"Exactly what we thought at first," Hank replied in agreement, "but we didn't know for sure until we confronted him at his penthouse."

"Wait, wait, wait," Nick closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking back at them in exasperation, "you _confronted_ him? At his_ penthouse_?"

"Maybe not our smartest move," Monroe looked slightly chagrined, as Rosalee snorted in agreement, "but we had to find out the truth."

"Ok, ok," Nick nodded at them again, sighing deeply, "let me get this straight. Adalind shows up, tells you she was involved with the hit and that the Captain is too, to get revenge on us for sending the baby away with my mom, so you go to Renard's penthouse to demand he tell you the truth? Am I missing anything?"

"No, that just about covers most of it," Monroe chirped in reply.

"I can't believe you guys actually confronted the Captain," Nick muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He looked back at them pointedly. "You guys aren't allowed to hang out without me anymore."

"A legitimate point," Monroe shrugged, "and although I can see why you might feel that way, we did manage to figure out what's really going on."

"And the Captain's not involved in this, by the way," Hank quickly clarified, "as far as we can tell."

"So if the Captain wasn't behind the hit, then who is Adalind working with?" Nick asked seriously, looking up at them again.

"Well, you're never going to believe this…" Hank started slowly, searching for the right words.

"I still don't believe it," Monroe snorted, shaking his head.

"Guys," Nick sighed impatiently, "just tell me what you know. Please."

"Ok," Hank replied hesitantly, "the Captain helped us narrow it down to who we think could be behind all this…"

"And?" Nick encouraged him, waiting with baited breath for his reply.

"And, the thing is," Monroe sighed, looking back at him, "it looks like Eric Renard is still alive."

Nick was silent for a long moment, looking at them in shock as he tried to process everything they had just told him. Finally, he let out a deep sigh and leaned his head back against the couch in pure exhaustion, tightly closing his eyes.

"You've got to be kidding me."

* * *

_TBC_


End file.
